Murder in Massachusetts
by NCCJFAN
Summary: The murder of a Massachusetts senator has Woody and Jordan reluctantly working together again. But because it's a US senator, it becomes a federal case and Agent Drew Haley gets thrown in the mix.
1. Nothing Like a Homicide

**Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan. Probably never will. But it's a nice thought…..**

**Chapter One**

**Nothing Like a Homicide to Bring You Together Again**

He hadn't seen her in months. Seven months to be exact, if you were keeping count. Which he wasn't, of course. When he jerked his hand away from hers and told her to leave his hospital room that day…that he didn't want to see her again, he deliberately tried to lose track of her.

And so far, he had been successful. As the feeling slowly had returned to his legs and he began to walk again, he had at first been put on desk duty. Then his promotion finally came through. All it took was a near-death experience and suddenly he was chief of detectives. Which meant even more paperwork at his desk…but a huge increase in pay.

Life had been good to him since the sniper attack…although circumstances had altered him as a man. He was edgier…the dark side of the Boy Scout from Wisconsin had finally surfaced. He was now known to have a foul temper at times and an even fouler mouth. He used to mask those behind a dimpled-smile exterior, but since the shooting, he no longer tried.

After he had returned to the Boston police department, he had worked nearly exclusively with narcotics, as they sought to break up a large drug ring plaguing the city of Boston. But now, the murder of a Massachusetts senator brought him back to homicide. And just his luck, Jordan had answered the call from the detective in charge. And as chief of detectives, he was expected to personally handle this high profile case. That meant he had to go back to the morgue…back to autopsy…back to her. He groaned as he considered the prospect of seeing her again.

She had kept her word. When Woody had thrown her out of his room, he had told her not to contact him. She had nodded as she gave him one more backward glance, her eyes full of hurt.

Those eyes. Those whiskey-colored eyes that he had seen gleam honey-gold with mischief, nearly bronze with anger…or turn a smoky chocolate with passion. But that time, the last time he saw her, they had been filled with hurt as she looked at him for the final moment, letting her shoulders sag with rejection, as she walked from his room.

But she had not contacted him… by phone, e-mail, or fax. Indeed both of them had gone out of each other's way _not_ to see each other as both of them recovered from the death of their budding relationship.

And Woody was sure she was dreading seeing him again just as much as he was dreading seeing her. However, with the circumstances that the murderer had dealt them, it was unavoidable. He kept telling himself it was bound to happen….and although he would deny it, a part of him had been waiting on the day…to see her….see if her eyes still reflected that hurt….because a part of him, the dark part that was now part of his psyche, desired to gloat over the fact that he had finally hurt her as much as she had him in the past.

Another part of him, the part that was still the Wisconsin Boy Scout, wanted to make sure she was doing okay. He had heard rumors that since Macy had been re-instated, the chief ME had begun to rely on Jordan more and more….to the point it was understood that while Garret handled the paperwork, Jordan literally was in charge of the morgue. He had also been privy to the rumors that she was so busy she had no life outside work. She didn't date…rarely went out.

Turned damned professional. He had nearly scoffed at the notion. Jordan? Professional? She had been known to bend the law to the point of nearly breaking it, but always pulled back just before she got into too much legal trouble. However, those were the rumors. She did things pretty much by the book now. No doubt a residual effect from working several months with Jack Slocum.

So as he got off the elevators to walk into the morgue, he wasn't prepared for what he would see. He anticipated seeing Jordan in her familiar low-riding scrubs with her hair pulled back.

Her hair was pulled back, but done up in a stylish up-do, not the familiar messy bun…and she had on a black and red print silky blouse and a bias-cut red skirt that hugged her in all the right places. She was thinner…he noted critically. Several pounds thinner than he remembered. He frowned. The last thing Jordan Cavanaugh needed to do was lose weight. But she was no longer his concern. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her open door. "Jordan?"

* * *

She had known he was coming. Garret had warned her yesterday after she had answered the homicide call on the senator that Woody would have to be involved since it was a high profile case. She had tried to prepare herself, repeating over and over that this was just another homicide in Boston and he was just another detective. Seven months had passed. There was nothing between them any longer. She was a different person now. And she had heard he definitely was far removed from the sunny boy-wonder she once knew and loved. Santana had tipped her off to Woody's new behavior weeks ago. "Sometimes he's like the old Woody….and then something will happen he doesn't like, and BOOM! It's almost like a Dr. Jekyll Mr. Hyde transformation. He becomes a swearing, moody tyrant."

Jordan couldn't imagine the Woody she remembered acting like that…still Santana had no reason to lie about such a thing. So all morning she felt as if she had been walking on egg shells….wondering what to say…how to act…what to do. She decided the best thing to do was be completely professional. No idle chit-chat. Personal question were off limits to him _and _her. No badly how she wanted to know if he was truly well health-wise. He was no longer her concern. "Detective Hoyt…" she responded to his greeting.

* * *

_Detective Hoyt…Damn…she called me Detective Hoyt_…he remunerated all the way back to his office. She had never called him Detective Hoyt…even on the first call they had answered together…years ago at the First National Bank of Boston.

She had been professional…too professional for his peace of mind. She had gone over what she knew from trace evidence and the tox screen. The autopsy was planned for that afternoon. She would know more then. Ballistics were turned over for completion by Nigel…Bug was working on the rest of trace evidence…some fibers…gun powder residue…an unknown substance on the senator's shoes. As soon as she had the results on those, she'd fax them over to him.

Then she had pretty much summarily dismissed him from her office…saying she had to change into her scrubs to do the autopsy. He had taken the reports out of her hand and walked to her door, turning back around to look her over critically one more time. She didn't look back up at him.

She had moved on.

Setting his lips in a firm line, he had left. What else did he expect? Tears and another false profession of her love? She had given him no opportunity to gloat over any hurt he may have caused her.

And for some reason, that angered him more than her hasty pleadings for him not to leave her seven month ago after he had been shot.

He shook his head. Working with her again would be interesting on more than one level this time. He was determined to get some kind of response out of her before the case was solved….whether it was anger or hurt…he wanted a response.

Preferably hurt. He wanted to have the satisfaction that at least she had suffered as much as he had.


	2. Who Called the FBI?

**Chapter Two**

**Who Called the FBI?**

_Damn that copier_, Jordan thought as she struggled to get it unjammed. _It never fails…it always jams up at the most inconvenient times_. And Emmy was off…and no one knew exactly how to placate the copier gods and get the machine up and running again but her. Swearing under her breath, Jordan reached in and finally found the culprit…a stray piece of paper wadded up behind the main roller. Sighing with relief, she pulled it out and pressed the reset button, rejoicing to hear the machine turn on and begin to warm back up.

The autopsy wasn't quite through, but she had enough information to get Woody started. She was going to make a copy of her reports and her dictation so far and have it curried over to Woody. She really didn't want to go through the stress of seeing him again today.

The warning light flashed on the copier again. _Out of paper….damn….._The paper was stored in a cabinet over the copier. Jordan stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a ream…barely able to touch it with her fingertips….when suddenly a pair of masculine hands came into view….one reaching for the paper and the other settling around her waist to gently tug her out of his way.

"You're short, Cavanaugh. Not your fault, I know. But you can get into serious trouble doing stuff like this. Haven't you ever heard of a step ladder?" came a faintly familiar voice from behind her. She turned quickly, her heart thudding.

"Agent Haley?"

"Jordan," he returned her greeting, handing her the paper and watching her load the machine.

"What brings you back to Boston?" The last case they had worked on together had been the Digger case, nearly five years ago.

"No 'It's nice to see you again' or 'How have you been'?" he countered.

Standing up from her bent position over the paper drawer, she decided to humor him. "Okay, how have you been and why are you back in Boston?"

"It's not nice to see me again? I'm hurt."

Jordan pushed the start button on the machine and copied her reports for Woody. "I found in the past that whenever I see you, the Feebees are involved in one of my cases, causing havoc and chaos in my morgue. And the last time I worked with you, I found myself buried alive….not something I look back on as a pleasant event." She held back the shiver that always ran through her body whenever she thought about that night and the time she spent in that coffin. "Besides, I thought I told you to make your next visit a social call."

Drew chuckled. He had heard she had changed…matured…and God knows she was even more beautiful than he remembered….even dressed in those nondescript blue scrubs. "Sorry…I'm afraid this isn't a social call."

"Okay…what is it?"

"The senator…the one you're doing the autopsy on…"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He's the third United States senator to be murdered in as many months."

Jordan drew in a deep breath. "So that means?"

"It's a federal case, sweetheart. I need to know what you've found out…and I need you to work with me on this. How much are the Boston PD involved?"

"The chief of detectives is handling it personally."

Drew frowned. Massachusetts had called out their biggest guns to cover this case. "And that would be Detective Hoyt? Right?"

Jordan nodded. "These reports are for him…along with the preliminary dictation. I'm not through with the autopsy yet."

"Make me a copy of each, and then we're paying Detective Hoyt a visit."

* * *

"It's my understanding from the chief of police that the case belongs to the Boston PD," Woody nearly shouted at Haley.

Jordan had watched the two men stand off to one another with near amusement. _Anytime you get two alpha-males in the room, there's always fireworks,_ she thought as she observed them playing off each other like a tennis match.

"But this involves a US senator….the third US senator to be murdered in as many months. The FBI has jurisdiction now," Haley retorted in a firm voice, handing Woody the papers that bore the FBI director's signature. "Sorry. It's time for your boys to take their playthings and go to some other sandbox."

Woody slammed his fist down on his desk and let out a string of swear words. Jordan nearly jumped at his temper. So this was what Santana was talking about. She never would have really believed it unless she saw and heard it. Then Woody turned his anger on her.

"Did you call the FBI?" he barked.

Jordan shook her head. "I don't like them in my morgue, either," she returned firmly.

Haley looked them both over. "A flag goes up anytime a United States official dies or is killed. No one had to call me. I knew."

Woody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay…okay…but the Boston PD is working in tangent with the FBI. Is that clear?"

Drew shook his head. "I'll have to get clearance."

"I don't give a damn who clears or doesn't clear what. We're working together, you don't get squat from my files or my men." He extended his had.

Reluctantly Drew shook his hand. "Deal. I'll be in touch shortly, Detective."

Woody nodded and turned back to his desk.

"And I'm looking forward to working with you again, Dr. Cavanaugh," Drew said, extending his hand to Jordan. Jordan let his large hand nearly swallow her smaller one.

"Again?" Woody asked, whirling back around, his eyes narrowing at Jordan.

"Yes. Dr. Cavanaugh was instrumental in assisting me with solving the Digger case several years ago…you may remember….the one where the killer buried his victims alive?"

Woody nodded. He had heard of it…but didn't know many details. So Haley and Jordan had worked together before…suddenly he felt surrounded by enemies.

And he never figured she'd be one of them.

* * *

"Your boyfriend doesn't seem too happy to see me," Drew said to Jordan as he walked her back over to her office.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh really?' Drew rejoined, raising an eyebrow. "Don't forget…I'm a profiler, Jordan."

"He's not my boyfriend," she repeated.

"But you'd like him to be?"

She swallowed hard. That possibility was now nil. "No."

"No, you don't want him to be your boyfriend, or no, he can't be your boyfriend?"

"Both."

Drew paused and looked at her. "But he was at one time."

She nodded, lowering her eyes from his view. Drew was far too good at his job.

"Cavanaugh, is this past relationship going to interfere with my case?"

She shook her head. "No…it's long over with…nearly a year." She was grateful they were back at her office. This line of questioning was making her uncomfortable. Jordan guarded her personal life more closely than ever now.

"Good. Glad to hear it." Drew had turned to go, but looked back over his shoulder. "But I'm sorry he hurt you, Jordan. And for what it's worth, I think he's a fool." He began to walk away, still talking, "I'll be in touch soon."

Jordan sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. That man was far, far too perceptive and good at his job….


	3. Perfection

**Chapter Three**

**Perfection**

No one knew how hard Jordan had worked just to _survive_ after Woody ousted her from his life.

First, she had worked like the devil himself was breathing down her neck to solve Garret's case…her goal was to get Slocum out of the morgue and Macy back in. She willingly put in long hours and painstaking detail to get one part of her life back to normal. And while she was immensely relieved the day that Garret had walked back into the morgue and was chief ME again, their relationship had altered.

He was off the pedestal.

No longer was he a man beyond reproach that she could look up to…he was a fallen individual. A mere mortal. Simply a co-worker. A person no less able to resist temptation than she was. And while she still loved him, the revere was gone.

Garret felt it, too. Rarely did she go to him for advice now. Rarely did they sit in his office and chat for hours on end about nothing important at all. Rarely did they go out for drinks after work.

Jordan was too busy trying to mend her broken heart and begin her life without the prospects of Woody being a part of it. Something she had never contemplated before. She had assumed that even after the ring debacle, they would still end up together…stumble back towards each other, somehow, someway, someday.

Only it didn't happen. He summarily kicked her out of his hospital room and out of his life. He didn't want any contact with her again.

This time, moving on was real. It was necessary. It was vital. It had to happen.

So, at first work was her outlet. First Garret's case and then any other case that she was assigned to. She found if she nearly drowned herself in a sea of work, she could go home exhausted and fall asleep nearly immediately, often without dreaming of a tall man with crystal blue eyes and a smile that melted her heart.

This effort was as necessary to Jordan as breathing. As recent events had unfolded, Jordan began to mull over in her mind why they had to happen…more specifically, why did they have to keep happening to _her_. Her mother's death. James' apparent suicide. Her father desertion of her. Garret's betrayal. Woody's abandonment.

The only reason she could formulate was that she was hopelessly flawed as an individual and as soon as people realized that, they left her. They couldn't stand her imperfection.

So, her mode of survival was _perfectionism_. She became the perfect employee once Garret returned to the morgue…willingly putting in all the hours needed without complaint, keeping her paperwork caught up, making sure every autopsy was done to the highest standard. Working with Jack Slocum had taught her how…one debt she did owe the bastard.

Her apartment became immaculate. Clean, well-organized….down to the alphabetized spice rack. Her wardrobe became more than perfectly pressed….it became perfectly coordinated and professional. Rarely did anyone catch her in jeans around the office any longer. Those had been relegated to Saturdays and Sundays when she was lounging around her apartment.

She tried to evolve into the daughter her father wanted…making peace with her grandmother, being considerate, not as stubborn…quiet, more feminine…a mature woman putting her past behind her.

She worked hard to become a better friend to Bug, Lily, and Nigel. Especially Nigel…the one person who had stuck with her through thick and thin and had propped her up emotionally after Woody had turned her away. Nigel was often by her side in the evening, but never in her bed. That was the understanding between them…she wouldn't be in anyone's bed until she had learned how to be as perfect in a relationship as she had everything else.

And that was the one area that was eluding her. She had no idea how to be the perfect girlfriend who in turn would become a perfect wife. She finally had given up, believing that to be an area that she would never need perfection in, because no man would want her given her hopelessly flawed personality. Maybe in his bed, yes…but never a permanent place in any man's life.

If the truth be known, she still couldn't see herself with anyone but Woody. Maybe that was because for so long that picture had played on in the back of her mind, despite of everything that had happened between them.

But then again, maybe it was because no other man had showed an interest in her the way he did.

Only now he didn't and she assumed that part of her life…a permanent relationship with a man … was off the table for her. So she concentrated on the other areas…employee, friend, daughter.

She assumed, when she did everything perfectly, everyone that she had lost may find their way back to her. Her father. Her relationship with Garret. All of her friends.

And when days passed and they didn't, instead of getting discouraged, she simply tried harder. And harder. And still harder.

Everyone applauded her efforts, "Jordan iss maturing," they all said. Everyone that is, except Nigel and Dr. Howard Stiles, the state psychologist. Nigel feared she was working too hard. Dr. Stiles feared her pursuit of perfection would be her ultimate downfall. "When she realizes that it can't be met…and even if it could …it probably wouldn't matter to these people…she'll collapse. And there may be no bringing her back."

However, Jordan doggedly pushed ahead with her plan to be as near-perfect as possible. And she had been succeeding fairly well. Until today. Wearily she pushed open the door to her apartment, went inside, closed it behind her, and leaned against it for support. Working with Woody again. It was bound to happen, after all he was the chief of detectives and she was an ME. Homicides fell on both sides of the line there.

At no time had she dreamed Drew Haley would ever walk back into her life. After the Digger case and he kissed her good-bye, she had assumed that she would never hear from him again. Despite the fact that the sexual chemistry between them was hot enough to raise the temperature in a room several degrees…and despite the fact that if the chance had arose during the Digger case, she would have slept with him, she never expected to hear from him again. They both knew they each carried too much emotional baggage at that point in time to be anything other than work partners. But now five years was behind them. She had matured, relegating her past to well, _the past_. And the look in Drew's eyes made her think that somewhere along the way his burdens had eased, too….his eyes no longer looked tortured or held a haunted gaze.

Jordan frowned and pulled away from the door, longing for a shower and a cold beer. She undressed, hung up her clothes, and turned the shower spray on hot and hard. _However,_ she thought_, now both men are in the mix…and both of them are pacing around each other like two caged bears. How am I going to manage my emotions and get them to work together nicely?_

The answer was eluding her as she dried off and got ready for bed, chugging down a cold beer all the while. Whatever happened, it was going to be interesting.

Whatever happened, she just hoped her heart would survive.


	4. Morgue Invasion

**Chapter Four**

**Morgue Invasion**

"Now tell me again exactly why this had to happen here?" Jordan asked Garret, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Because they needed a central location to spread the information out….that was near the labs…and near you. So when Haley asked if the Boston PD and the FBI could use our conference room, who was I to say no?"

Jordan bit back a groan of exasperation. She had hoped to keep as clear of Drew and Woody as she could, so they wouldn't upset her balance of work and normalcy. She assumed that the FBI would use their local offices, Woody would stay in his, and she would stay in her own little corner in her own little chair.

And all would be well with her world….or as well as it could get.

Nothing doing. She came in the next morning to find her work environment turned on its ear as tables and computers were moved into the conference room right across from her office. She walked into her office, shut the door, and drew the window blinds between her outer windows and the hallway. If both men had to be within fifty feet of her door, her blinds would remain closed. That would at least afford her a modicum of privacy. Taking off her jacket and hanging it up, she got down to work…Nigel had finished the ballistics on the senator, she'd forward that to Drew and Woody for them to fight over….Bug had finished trace, so ditto on that, too. She was scheduled for autopsy at ten. It was now eight-thirty. She flipped on her computer and checked her e-mail…working through the list until there was a sharp rap on her door.

"Jordan?" Drew poked his head in her office.

"Yes?"

"Can you join us in the conference room?"

"Only for a little while. I have an autopsy at ten."

Drew nodded. "Fine. But you may want to see if someone can cover for you or reschedule."

Jordan gave him a hard look. "I can't reschedule. Only Macy can approve those changes." _And I pray to God he doesn't this time…_She really had no desire to be caught in the middle of Drew and Woody again. Somehow a nice, quiet, autopsy sounded downright relaxing compared to being between those two alpha-males.

Drew nodded again. "I'll see what I can do."

A few minutes later, Garret knocked on her door. "I understand you're scheduled for an autopsy at ten?"

"Yeah. Please don't make me change it…"

Garret grinned. "Okay, which is bothering you more…working with the Feds or working with Woody again?"

Jordan groaned. "I always figured Woody and I would end up working together at some point. I was ready for that. I also am aware that sometimes the Feds have to get involved with one of our cases. I just never figured they'd both happen at the same time."

Garret sighed. "Well, they both need you now…especially since you caught the senator's autopsy. I'm pulling you off rotation until they're through here." He caught Jordan's crestfallen face. "Look at it this way…the sooner the case is solved, the sooner they both can pack up, go home, and leave you alone."

"I know. Okay…see if Bug can cover my autopsy. If he can't, push it back until this evening and I'll take care of it after I finish with Drew and Woody."

Garret raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. I can do it after they leave work at five…no problem. That way I won't be rushed."

Garret nodded. "I'll change the autopsy schedule. Bug will be delighted. He'll be able to get out of work early for once."

Jordan smiled. "Good. At lease someone in here will have a good day."

* * *

"So this is the entrance wound and that's the exit wound?" Woody asked her for the fifth time, as they were looking at the autopsy pictures.

"Yes." Jordan could feel the exasperation rising in her. She squelched her temper once more. God knows Woody and Drew had enough for all three of them and some to spare.

"You're sure?"

"She's sure. She's an ME for God's sake and one of the best," responded Drew. He, too had questioned Jordan on her findings, but was getting irritated at Woody's tenor of inquiry. He had no idea what had happened between Jordan and the Boston chief of detectives, but it seemed Woody was nearly on a personal vendetta against Jordan.

"I know Jordan's very good at her job…but sometimes they can be hard to distinguish – especially with a smaller caliber gun -- and I need to know that she is certain which is the entrance and which is the exit," Woody ground out.

"Would you like Nigel or Bug to have a look at them? Just for a second opinion?" she asked.

"It might not be a bad idea," Woody conceded, looking at her.

Jordan stifled a retort and rose from her chair in the conference room. She'd go see which man was free – Bug or Nigel – and send them in this lion's den….not without warning them of Drew's and Woody's temper, of course. She knew neither Bug nor Nigel would be happy to work with the Feds, but like Garret said, the sooner the case was solved the sooner their world could return to normal. Glancing at her watch, she checked the time as she walked down to Nigel's office. Quarter to five. She'd send one of the men in and head to autopsy herself, to cover the case that was rescheduled from this morning. With a little luck, she could be out of here by nine or ten, grab some take-out on the way home, and fall into bed by midnight.

* * *

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Drew asked her, walking into autopsy a little after eight.

"My autopsy that was scheduled for this morning. What the hell are you still doing here?" Jordan answered.

"Hoyt and I have been going over some of the details again. We both figured you got fed up with us and left out of here after you sent Nigel in."

"I wish…but I have to keep up my normal workload while working with you guys."

"Really? Why?"

"Because I have to…it's only right. I can't shove my job off on Nigel or Bug."

Drew carefully looked at her for a minute. "Are you nearly through?"

"Nearly. I still need to do dictation."

"Can't that wait until tomorrow? There doesn't seem to be anything unusual about this death," Drew responded, looking at her charts.

Jordan finished sewing up the Y-incision and tied off the silk. Raising her face mask and stripping off her gloves, she had to admit she was tired. It had been a long day…physically she was just tired. Mentally…after working with Drew and Woody … she was exhausted. "Yeah, it can. And I think I'll let it. I'll just come in early and get it done before you all invade my conference room again."

Drew chuckled. Jordan had let it be known…in a polite way…she didn't appreciate the Boston PD or the FBI taking up residence in the room across from her office. "Have you eaten?" he asked, suddenly changing the topic.

"No. Figured I'd pick up something on the way home. All I want now is a shower, dinner, and bed."

Drew quietly regarded her a moment. "Let me pick up something and bring it to your apartment. Meanwhile, you go get your shower. I'll be there in a few minutes." He headed out the door without waiting for her answer.

Exasperated that he had just taken for granted her answer would be yes, Jordan called out in an irritated voice, "But you don't know where I live…."

Without glancing back at her, Drew replied, "Twenty-two hundred Pearle Street, apartment 311."

"Wait…how'd you know?"

Drew's elevator door opened. He entered it and turned around, flashing his FBI badge and grinning at her.

She should have known.


	5. Chinese, Confessions, and a Conspiracy

**Chapter Five**

**Chinese, Confessions, and a Conspiracy**

An hour later Drew found himself knocking on the red door of Jordan's apartment. She answered and told him to put the Chinese take out on the counter while she got the plates and silverware. She had already showered, her hair still damp and curling around her shoulders. "Find a movie or something on television you want to watch while we eat," she told him. "What do you want to drink with your Moo Shoo Pork? I have Diet Pepsi, tea, water, and beer…"

"I bought a bottle of wine to go with the take out. I'll have a glass of that."

"Hmmm…a wine person. Always figured you for the harder stuff."

"Well, I like that, too, but we both have to work tomorrow, Jordan."

"Don't remind me," she stifled a yawn as she sat beside him on the couch, handing him his glass of wine and setting hers on the table. They ate in silence while they watched CSI: Miami.

"You have to wonder how much of that they believe is real," Jordan said, when her tummy was finally full and Drew had refilled her wine glass for the second time.

"Yeah…especially when you have the careers we do…you look at shows like that and kind of blow them off."

She nodded, moving her dinner plate off her lap to the coffee table and pulling her legs underneath her, unconsciously leaning a little closer to Drew. The day was catching up with her and she could feel her eyelids beginning to droop.

Drew noticed and refilled her wine glass one more time. He had felt the tension between Hoyt and her all day, crackling with an undercurrent in the air. What was worse was the way Jordan looked at Woody when he wasn't noticing…and the same way he did her. Drew had no clue what had happened between them in the past, but whatever it was, there had to be some great passion there, because now there was great dislike…nearly hate. And Drew had worked with the FBI a number of years…had studied as a profiler long enough to know that quite often hate and passion are two sides of the same coin. Hoyt and Jordan may profess not to care for each other, but he'd bet his bottom dollar the passion was still there – somewhere -- buried under all those layers of hurt both of them seemed to resent.

And that was the real reason he was there tonight. To get an exhausted Jordan just tipsy enough to loosen her tongue and tell him the truth. "So, Jordan," he began, noting her eyes opened back up, "tell me what went on with Hoyt. You said he used to be your boyfriend, but now he isn't…that it had been over with nearly a year…"

"Seven months…" her words were slurring slightly.

"You have it down to months. Is it really over?"

She nodded, and drained the rest of her glass of wine. Drew refilled it half way. "It's over," she stated.

"Care to tell me what happened?"

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. She was a private person and guarded her past mistakes carefully. But sometimes the coat of perfectionism she was trying to put on her life wore thin. Drew would be here a few days or weeks at the most and then be gone back to Quantico. She may see him once or twice more in her life time…what the hell would it hurt to unburden herself this one time? Nigel knew a lot about her and Woody and what had happened, but not even Nigel knew the whole story. What possible harm could it be to tell the entire story to someone who would be out of her life in a short while…someone who wouldn't judge….someone, who in the past, had saved her life? Surely she could trust Drew. "You have the time?" she asked.

"I have all night, Jordan."

"See, Woody and I…well, we had this _thing_ for a while…I guess it could be called attraction. I met him on a bank hoist about five years ago…he was a country bumpkin from Kewuanne, Wisconsin…I figured he'd last less than a year in Boston and then go screaming back to the hills. But I was so wrong.

"Woody was smart," she continued, draining her glass again and reaching for his nearly full one sitting on the coffee table. "Far smarter than anyone gave him credit for. And he liked me from the moment he saw me. And I knew it. Boy, did I know it.

"At first it was kind of fun…play him out, reel him back in….but he always came back for more. Then I went into melt down…a lot of stuff came up about my mother's murder…but Woody was there for me…even when my father left Boston because of me, Woody was there. He held me…took care of me when I wasn't able to take care of myself. He never left….he was as solid as they came." Jordan sighed and took a sip of wine.

"So….what happened?" Drew asked, gently prodding her along.

"I waited too long…I knew I was falling in love with him, but you know people like us – you and me – we don't trust easily. It takes us a while…so I fought it. Then he found someone else."

"And he's with that person now?" he inquired.

Jordan shook her head, wishing the room would stop spinning for just a minute. "No…it was a co-worker…Devin McGuire. She was killed in a plane crash."

Drew let out a low whistle. "He didn't get over it, did he?"

"It took a while. Months. Meanwhile, I was coming to grips with what I felt about him. I tried to be there for him during this time…help him…let him talk about her even though it about killed me inside. The whole time though, Drew," Jordan looked him in the eyes, "I was in love with Woody. I knew it. It just wasn't the right time to tell him. I mean you can't just go up to a man whose girlfriend has just been killed in a plane crash and go, 'Gee, I think I love you'."

"No, I don't suppose so…."

"Well, you can't. So I just tried to show him I had changed. Put my past behind me…even my mother's murder. And slowly, slowly, we were coming together. A kiss here and there…and God, he grew more handsome everyday." She glanced at Drew. In the back of her mind the stray thought wafted across _I wonder how he's taking this and why does he want to know?_ Then she brushed it away. He probably wanted to be reassured that whatever went on between she and Woody in the past wouldn't interfere with his case in the present. "Then…then it happened."

"What happened, Jordan?" Drew asked in a low, silky voice, oddly reassuring as he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, relaxing her further. He took the now-empty wine glass out of her hand and didn't relinquish his hold on her fingers.

"It was the worst two days of my life," she said in a low tone, still swallowing back the tears after seven months. "My birthday came up…and he gave me a ring…not an engagement ring … a friendship ring to be worn on my right hand. But it was a diamond ring and you know what I did." She tightened her hold on his fingers.

"You freaked out."

She giggled. More of an effect of the alcohol than humor. "Yep. Totally."

"And he didn't take it too well." It was a statement. From what Drew could tell of Woody, the relationship Woody would have with the woman that he would want to be his wife would be very serious nearly all the time. Jordan's reaction probably hurt the detective more than she would ever realize.

"That is an understatement," she whispered.

"So what happened next?"

She lowered her eyes and Drew noticed the tears began to slip from under the lids. Wordlessly he handed a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "He told me that he was tired of this 'dance' I insisted on doing. That he was ready to move on with his life. He had been in Boston nearly four years and had waited on me. He was tired of waiting. Then he walked out of my office."

"And that was it?"

"No…not exactly. When he told me that…it was later that day after he gave me the ring … I wanted to tell him I had changed my mind. I was ready to take the ring and wear it on my _left_ hand if that was what he wanted. But he stormed out of my office before I would say anything. And I was too shocked to go after him."

"And?"

"He moved on. Began dating women that I knew…so I heard about it. I made a huge effort to keep the lines of communication open between us…I wanted him back. Tried to make him jealous and everything."

"Did it work?"

"No. Then, about seven months ago, he got shot in the belly with one of those Talon bullets."

Drew winced. Those could be deadly…they penetrated Kevlar…and once inside the body they opened up and played pinball with the organs.

"They had to remove his spleen and the bullet nicked his spine. For a while we didn't know if he would walk again."

"He seems fine…at least physically."

"He is." Jordan reached for another tissue.

"So what happened, sweetheart?" Drew asked, pulling her exhausted body closer to his, her head now leaning on his shoulder.

"I went to the hospital to see him…God, I was so scared….All the hospital did was call me and tell me he had been shot. I was so afraid I was going to lose him…I told him he couldn't leave me…he just couldn't. That I could say to him what he always wanted to hear from me … that I loved him. But it was too little too late. He didn't believe me. He thought I was saying it out of pity, not real love. He kicked me out of his hospital room and told me he didn't want to see or hear from me again." Jordan sniffled and rested her head fully on his shoulder now.

Drew gently stroked her back. So that was what happened. She played Woody at first, then fell in love with him…fully, as far as the profiler could tell…and then had been rejected. He understood Woody's anger at her…but that wasn't all that was bothering the detective. He wouldn't be that hostile over just Jordan's seemingly false confession of love made out of pity. No, there was something else there that Jordan wasn't aware of…even though Woody seemed determined to take it out on her. Drew wasn't sure what it was, but he knew he could find out soon enough.

He glanced at Jordan, now sound asleep on his shoulder. She had been hurt deeply…she may have flirted around with Woody at first, but she loved him…she still did, Drew would bet. Gently, he scooped her up in his arms and took her to her bedroom and tucked her in, thankful that she had opted to go ahead and put on her sleep pants and a tank top after she showered. He knelt by the side of her bed for just a minute, brushing the hair off her forehead. "Jordan…do you still love him? Do you still love Woody?" he asked softly in her ear.

She nodded and whispered, "Yes…very much." Drew smiled as he reached for her alarm clock to set the alarm to ring at eight-thirty instead of seven. She would need the extra sleep after all the wine and the emotional confession. He'd cover for her with Hoyt and Macy…Garret wouldn't have a problem with it at all…Hoyt would give her hell. He stood and turned out the light, finding his way to her door….a plan beginning to form in his mind.


	6. Locked In

**Chapter Six**

**Locked In**

_Where the hell is she?_ Woody thought irritably to himself the next morning. _She's two hours late…._He was ready to try to wrap the case up…and get back to his office…back to his corner of the world…back to where he didn't have to see her on a daily basis. It was bothering him more than he let on. Just when he thought he had his act together around her, the scent of her perfume would float over to him, wreathing around his senses and pull him back to her…or her eyes would still flash a look of hurt and confusion. Especially when he lost his temper with her.

Which happened on nearly a daily basis now. His foul mouth and his foul temper was his way of coping and keeping her at a distance. He hoped it was working. God knows they didn't need to even think about starting that "dance" again they had done for four years.

Supposedly she had changed. That's what he had heard. And he had to admit, to a degree, she had. She was quieter. More feminine. Everything about her was…not that it wasn't before. But then…back when they worked together on nearly a daily basis… her jeans and shirts reflected the curves of her figure and the length of her legs. She was sex-appeal and intelligence rolled up into one delectable package.

Now, dressed in her skirts and blouses or dresses…both that still emphasized the length of her legs, although now encased in nylon…she was still sex appeal, but this time it was wrapped in a package of intelligence and breathtaking femininity. He kept wanting to put his hand on the small of her back again … he fought the urge daily. Frustrated he flung down the file in his hand and raised his voice, "Jordan!"

"She's not here," Dr. Macy said, stopping by the door to the conference room. "So there's no use yelling.

"Great…where is she….and where is Haley?"

Garret shrugged. "Jordan has enough vacation days and sick days built up that she could take six months off. She'll call soon enough if she's not feeling well."

"She's not sick. She's going to be late," said Drew, sliding past Garret into the conference room.

"She's going to be late? Did she call you?" Woody asked.

"Not exactly…" Drew's voice trailed off as Jordan came in right behind him.

"Sorry I'm late. As corny as this sounds, it's the truth: My alarm clock didn't go off this morning until an hour and a half after it was supposed to. It somehow got reset."

Drew looked at her and grinned. "I reset it last night after I put you to bed…I figured you'd need some extra sleep this morning." He deliberately held Jordan's gaze, knowing that Woody was taking it all in and filtering it through his mind.

Jordan felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She had wondered how she got into her bed last night….she couldn't remember anything much after the third glass of wine. She was also excruciatingly aware of Woody's glaring stare.

"If you two are through, let's get busy. We have a lot of ground to cover today," Woody bit out through near-clenched teeth.

"Of course," Drew said smoothly, pulling out a chair for Jordan to sit in. "Can I get you some coffee, Jordan?"

She nodded. "That would be nice. Black, please."

Drew left to get the coffee. There was an awkward silence between Jordan and Woody. She shifted through reports and photos, waiting on Drew to come back. Woody didn't say anything, but simply gazed back and forth from the Boston skyline at the window to her face. Thankfully Drew didn't take long.

And that's how it went the rest of the day…a quiet group trying to solve a possible string of serial killings that involved United States senators…piecing together evidence from three states. Woody was careful not to raise his voice or temper to Jordan that day. Of course, she didn't really give him a chance. She was monosyllabic to him most of the afternoon. He inwardly sighed with frustration.

Five o'clock finally rolled around and all three of them were anxious to leave for the day. Drew had carefully watched Woody and Jordan all day. He knew what Woody was thinking …that the profiler and Jordan had spent the night together last night…and had occupied most of that time making love…which was why she was so tired and the reason why she was late.

He did nothing to dispel that train of thought.

He wasn't quite sure what Jordan was thinking…but he was aware she knew that _didn't_ happen. She was probably worried about how much she had told him.

The group got ready to leave. Jordan picked up her coat and briefcase, heading towards her office. "You're not going home?" Drew asked.

"I need to check my e-mail and look at some reports first."

"But you'll go soon and get some rest tonight?" he continued, raising one eyebrow.

She nodded and turned her attention to her computer. She didn't feel like dealing with him tonight…she didn't feel up to dealing with anyone or anything but her own thoughts. Which weren't very happy ones. She was well aware of what Woody must think. What bothered her most was that she was _worried_ abut what he may have concluded. Why should she be concerned about that after all this time? He had moved on, why shouldn't he believe that she had, too?

Sighing, she finally turned her computer off and got ready to leave. It was only six-thirty…and summer time in Boston. The days were longer…it was staying light outside now until nearly nine o'clock. Maybe she'd go home, change into jeans and take a walk in the park…think through some things and get some perspective. Then go home and collapse into bed.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," said a quiet voice from her doorway. It was Woody.

"I was just getting ready to leave. I figured you'd be long gone by now…What's up? How long are you keeping the ladies waiting tonight?"

Woody grimaced to himself. If she only knew…how many nights he spent at his desk doing paperwork…how many nights he spent with women that were never quite as beautiful…never quite as smart…as she was.

Because they simply _weren't_ her.

"Ah…at least for a little while longer. I got to thinking after we left for the evening….Do you remember the Simmons murder?"

Jordan nodded…it was the second case they had worked on together after he arrived in Boston. Bob Simmons was a senatorial candidate…everyone…from the press on down…knew he was going to win the election. He was leading in every poll by a wide margin…until he was gunned down in front of his hotel room. Suddenly her eyes widened. "You don't think?"

"The caliber of the bullet is the same. The box of evidence is in storage. Want to go get it and look at it with me? Maybe we both can pull one over on Haley in the morning…."

"Sure." Jordan got up from her chair and followed him out the door…across the street to the precinct…and down into the basement to the cold case file room. Then he led her through another door. "It's not in cold case?" she asked, slightly confused.

"The high profile cases are kept separately…in this room." He pushed open the door. "It's specially treated to keep humidity at a minimum and the only light comes in from that window at the top." He pointed to a narrow window at the top of the wall. "Help me find the box, okay?"

Fortunately, it wasn't hard to locate. It was near the top of the fourth shelf. Woody pulled it down and put it on the small table at the side of the tiny room. For nearly an hour, they shifted through the evidence, comparing it to the current murder. Finally, Woody put everything back in the box. "It's enough for me. I'll bring it to Haley tomorrow morning. This may throw him for a loop, but our killer may have been at this for longer than any of us have thought." He put the lid on the box and they both began to walk toward the door when it slammed shut and they both heard the weights in the door shift as it locked.

Woody groaned. He had forgotten the doors to the special cold case files were kept in a vault-like room. A vault-like room that locked on a timer system.

A timer system he didn't know how to override.

They were stuck…in a six by four room until tomorrow morning at nine.

Together

Alone.


	7. Digging Up the Past

**Chapter Seven**

**Digging up the Past**

A string of swear words accompanied Woody's realization…words which would have made Jordan even wince, although in her past she had been known to give a Boston sailor a run for his money with her own vocabulary selection. He flipped open his cell phone to call upstairs to his office, to find someone who knew how to override the damn timed-lock. Glancing at the screen, he read the message…no service. _Damn these vault-rooms_, he swore to himself. There was nothing to do but wait until the next morning when the timer released them…and he had a stack of paperwork a mile high on his desk that he needed to wade through before tomorrow. He swore again.

He didn't notice Jordan' reaction until a few minutes later, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her inching towards the back of the room, her eyes wide and face pale…almost like she was in shock. Woody nearly swore again. That was all he needed now…for her to have a panic attack. Squelching his temper and his tongue, he walked over and stood in front of her.

She didn't see him….didn't notice him in any way. Woody grew alarmed. "Jordan," he said softly…"Jordan, look at me."

No response. He had to get her attention…he knew how the police sometimes had to treat victims that were in shock…lightly slapping or shaking them. Somehow even the mere thought of doing that to Jordan was nauseatingly unappealing. So he spoke louder, "Jordan!"

Still nothing. Finally, he took her by the shoulders and shook her lightly. "Jordan…" She turned her eyes to him then, focusing somewhat on his face. "Come on…you can't be that claustrophobic," Woody continued, "Or is it the thought of being locked up in here with me for the next twelve hours that bad?"

"I have to get out, Woody."

"I know…I need to get out, too. I have a stack of paperwork a mile high on my desk…"

"I have to get out…he's going to kill me this time…"

She was making no sense. Woody watched in horror as Jordan slowly sank to the floor and curled up into nearly a ball, her back resting against the wall, knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her head was resting on her knees and she had her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

He sat down in front of her then, not knowing whether to try to take her in his arms and comfort her or to let her confront the demon that was bothering her. "Jordan…what do you mean…who wants to kill you?"

"Digger." She looked up at him.

Deeply puzzled, Wood sat back for a minute. _Digger…Digger….that was the case she worked on with Haley six years ago…_He couldn't remember much about the case…it was before his time in Boston. He did know it never went to trial, that Digger had been killed before that could happen. But why would that case bring such a reaction out of her in this room?

"Jordan, I don't understand," he put out a hand to brush her hair out of her eyes, but she flinched and moved away from him. _So much for comforting her_, he thought. "Tell me about it, please," he asked and was relieved her eyes became a bit more focused.

"Do you know anything about the case?"

Woody shook his head. "Not much. Before my time here, remember? And it never went to trial."

Jordan swallowed hard, and lowered her knees from her chest. "It all started when Lois and I found a body in the Boston harbor. It was an embalmed body…someone had removed it from its coffin and thrown it in the bay…" Her voice was low, barely a whisper. Woody had to strain to hear her words.

"So we started tracing where it came from…Nigel found the location and we went there…reopened the grave and found that a girl had been put in the man's coffin…she…she was buried alive." Jordan took a deep breath and pressed her hands together, willing herself to go on. She had never really talked to anyone about the Digger case after it was closed, keeping her thoughts and nightmares about the case to herself for years. It wasn't until Woody had shown up in Boston and she began to feel that someone really cared for her and was concerned about her safety that the bad dreams had faded…although her claustrophobia had remained. She glanced at Woody, to gauge his reaction. She couldn't read his face…it remained policeman-neutral.

"Anyway…we took the girl's body back to the morgue and the next thing I knew Drew was breathing down my neck to turn over all the information I had gathered on the woman and the embalmed body. But you know me, I only have up partial evidence…" Woody grunted. That _did_ sound like the old Jordan.

"I bargained the rest of the information to Drew for the opportunity to work with him on the case…Digger was a serial killer and I was somewhat fascinated by him…I had never known a perp to bury their victims alive the way he did…taking care to dye their hair brunette, put a beauty mark on their cheek….all the victims looked alike…And Drew let me help him."

She looked down at her hands…now tightly folded together…and once again pushed herself to continue. She had no clue why she was opening up to Woody like this…she really shouldn't. The man she should be talking about this with was Drew. He had been there….he would understand better than anyone. Woody had kicked her out of his life….she tried to listen for warning bells in her mind…telling her this was a mistake and to stop taking to Woody about her feelings. She heard nothing but her own shallow breathing.

"Well, one thing led to another and soon we discovered he was working out of a travel trailer…and I found the trailer. I went to search it and Drew came in right behind me…mad as hell because I entered without a warrant. We scuffled and in the midst of that I must have dropped my ME identification. And….and…Digger found it.

"I realized it was missing the next day…and that it had my home address on it. And I realized that Drew knew a lot about this Digger…too much…in my mind, I began to panic, thinking that Drew was Digger."

Woody nearly chuckled. He could easily understand how Jordan could make that mistake given just what he had observed about the profiler the last few days. But the look in her wide eyes made him choke it back. The fright was still there. "What happened next?" he asked. "Did you find Digger?"

Jordan shook her head and lowered her eyes to her hands again. Now she was wringing them together… "No," she answered in a terrified whisper. "He found me."

Woody's face went from neutral to shock in half a second. "Oh, God…Jordan…" He went to cover her hands with his, but she pulled away again.

"Yeah," she continued in that same petrified tone. "He found me. I was in the morgue…trying to get away from Drew actually, thinking he was Digger … I locked myself in the crypt…Digger – the real Digger -- was in there….he grabbed me and injected me with something to paralyze me….He took me to a cemetery, drew the beauty mark on my cheek, dropped me in the coffin, and closed the lid." Her breath began to come in short, shallow pants…remembering the stuffiness and lack of oxygen in the casket. "He…he…taped a walkie-talkie to my hand…I said I wasn't going to beg him to get me out…but in the end I did…Not one of my better moments," she said…feeling the tears coming to her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

"But all of his victims died…" Woody said. "How…"

"Drew and Garret were right behind me. They found me…if I had been in that coffin just a few minutes longer…." She couldn't finish, but brushed the tears off her cheeks with her fingers…however, the tears were falling so fast they ran between her fingers onto her shirt and dress pants.

Woody reached out to gently help her, but she moved away again. Her confession to explain her panic-ridden state was as far as she was going to go with him. She didn't want him to touch her.

She didn't know how she would react if he did. So it was better that she not find out.

"Well, that certainly explains your claustrophobia…and your relationship with Drew," Woody said.

Jordan nodded. "I guess working with him again…and then being locked in this room…just brought it all out one more time…"

Woody looked at her critically for a moment. "Have you talked to anyone about that case, Jordan? Macy or Stiles for example?"

She shook her head. "No…by the time my yearly psych exam rolled around after the Digger case was officially closed, I had dealt with it myself. I didn't talk about it and most of the folks at the morgue and the Boston PD knew it was off limits to mention it around me."

_So that explains why no one would talk to me about it_, Woody thought. "I'm no expert, God knows…but maybe you should….for your own good."

"Maybe…but like I said….being in this tiny locked room, seeing Drew again…I guess it all kind of bubbled to the surface once more. But it's over now, and it can't get any worse, right?'

Woody opened his mouth to answer and the room went dark. He had forgotten the lights were on a timer, too.


	8. Reflections in the Dark

**Chapter Eight**

**Reflections in the Dark**

In the pitch dark black of the room, Woody could no longer tell exactly where Jordan was. Tentatively he put out a hand and moved it until it brushed against what he assumed was her leg. "Jordan?" he asked.

"I'm…I'm right here," came her soft reply. Woody could tell by the tone of her voice that her breathing was shallow and she was fighting panic.

"Come here."

She moved away. "No…I'll…I'll be all right." She curled up in a ball in a corner somewhere along the side of the wall. If she could just manage to fall asleep in this small, dark space….she could deal with this…she could sleep away the hours until morning.

But it wasn't working. The feeling like she was alone…suffocating…trapped….back inside that coffin…wouldn't leave her.

Woody knew it, too. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her…the rapid breathing, her swallowing her tears…dealing with her fear the way she had dealt with it nearly all of her life. Alone. He reached for her to pull her close.

"No, please, Woody…I'll be fine. I just need to go to sleep. If I can just sleep, when I wake up, everything will be okay."

"Bullshit." He cradled her against him. "The last thing you need is to be alone right now." Instinctively, he framed her face in one of his hands and wiped her tears. "Anyone who had experienced what you did would have been scared out of their mind. And anyone that had been through what you have would be bothered by this situation." He sighed. "And it's my own damn fault for not remembering the locks and lights work on a timer system."

"Do you know what time it is?"

Woody checked his watch. "From what I can tell by the LED read out, it's nearly ten."

Jordan sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Woody pulled her closer. "Go to sleep, Jo. I'm here…and you know I won't let anything happen. You're safe. And in a little while, when you wake up, it will all be over with…and we can go home…eat a hot meal…shower…and get some real rest."

"Think Haley will let us have the day off?"

Woody chuckled. "We're taking tomorrow off if hell freezes over in the process."

He rubbed her back until he felt some of the tension leave her body. Propped up against the wall with her in his arms seemed right…oh hell, it _felt_ right. And if this had happened a year ago, he'd have been the happiest man on earth.

Not because he would be holding a terrified Jordan in his arms. God, no. The last thing he wished on anyone was the type of fear that had its grip on her now and wouldn't let go. But they would be alone…finally…with no dead bodies, unsolved cases, ringing cell phones, or a thousand other things that kept interrupting their lives when they were together.

No…it would be just him and her in a small dark room with endless possibilities. He wasn't sure he would have made love with her here, but who knows? He had a feeling that Jordan was probably more sexually adventurous than he had given her credit for. There was the table… floor…chairs…and no interruptions until nine o'clock tomorrow morning. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his blood flow south at his thoughts.

It would have happened…he was sure of it. But that was then and this was now. Seven months after he had kicked her out of his hospital room and told her he didn't want anything else to do with her. So instead, he was holding a frightened woman in his arms…although by her even breathing, Woody could tell she was asleep, even if he couldn't see her. He had never known Jordan to be this terrified over anything. The Digger case had obviously played with her mind more than he ever knew…hell…he had never heard her even mention it until the last couple of days.

Damn Haley for letting her help him with the case. He would bet any amount of money the FBI profiler never lost sleep over anything…except maybe making love with Jordan.

Woody winced at the thought. He knew he had moved on…along with his promotion came a larger salary and more prestige. He had been introduced to and dated some of the most beautiful women in Boston.

Part of his ego…his stubborn, male pride … had assumed that she hadn't continued with her life. More specifically, she couldn't move on because she was still in love with him. Yes…a tiny part of his manhood wanted to believe the words she had whispered to him months ago while he was in the hospital…_Don't leave me…I love you…_ And he had wanted her to know how it hurt to be rejected…like he had been by her….time and time again.

But for her to actually be with another man? In ways that he had never been intimate with her? He never wanted to think about it…much less picture it in his mind…someone else's hands on her….her lips beneath theirs…another man making her feel things that he had never been able to….No. He never really had believed it would happen. Or at least the part of him that had remained in denial had never thought it would happen. That part of him always believed that they would find their way back to each other…stumbling along the way….but end up together.

Woody gently brushed her hair back and felt her snuggle closer to him, then jumped at his body's sudden reaction to her movement. Sweet Jesus, how was he supposed to survive this? His physical reaction to her closeness had not changed in all these months, even if everything else about him had. He guessed the primal in him had remained the same.

However, he realized she had changed completely. She dressed differently…worked differently…she was even wearing a new perfume. He could tell. But the inner change in her was the most fascinating to him. She was more feminine…softer….showing a side of her that Woody always knew was there, but she had been afraid to let anyone see…even him.

He sighed as he pulled her still closer and tried to get some sleep himself. _Haley is one lucky son of a bitch_, he thought as he began to doze off. _He just sure as hell better not hurt her. I understand there is serious jail time involved for killing an FBI agent._

* * *

She was back in the coffin. She could feel it….the suffocating warmth….the stuffiness…it was difficult to breathe. She couldn't turn over…something was holding her down. She had lost the flashlight and the walkie-talkie…now Garret and Drew would never find her.

But Woody would. Woody had always found her and kept her safe. Maybe if she yelled one more time. She opened her mouth and managed to take a breath, but all that came out was a frightened whimper.

"Jordan…Jordan…wake up baby….you're dreaming. It's okay…I've got you. Woody's here…Jordan?" Woody gently shook her to fully wake her up. She sat up straighter, but he didn't relinquish his hold on her until he knew she was aware of her surroundings.

"What time is it?" she asked pulling away from him to stand up and stretch.

"Nearly eight-thirty." His arms had never felt so empty.

"I guess it won't be long now … until the door opens."

Woody nodded and stood himself, thankful that sleeping all night on the floor hadn't bothered his back like he thought it might. Jordan caught the movement of his hand massaging his lower spine.

"Oh, God…your back…I'm sorry….You should have laid down last night…are you okay? Did I hurt you? I am such a screw-up." Her voice carried all the tones of panic, remorse, and fear about him Woody could handle.

"I'm fine, Jordan. I've been healed for months. My back is probably as stiff as yours is but no worse. So relax. You needed to be taken care of last night, not me."

She lowered her eyes, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. "Thanks…for everything…like I said, with Drew being here and being locked in this room…"

"It's okay. Flashbacks from stressful situations are common – more common than you think."

She nodded. At least he understood. She imagined he had relived his shooting more than once…so he wasn't raking her ass over the coals about her fears. And being in his arms one more time…even if it was for comfort only…added to her memories of him. One more she could tuck away and remember when she had a bad day.

"But there's something else you should think about."

Jordan looked at him expectantly.

"We'll be going back to work in the same clothes we left in yesterday…"

She knew where he was going with his train of thought. "But we'll have the box…"

"And given our history, how many people do you think that will convince that nothing happened between us last night…locked in a room…alone…no lights…?"

She shrugged. "Why should either of us really care? We know nothing happened….nothing could happen. You've moved on, I've moved on…we're two different people…"

"Don't you care what Drew thinks?"

She wanted to ask him why should that matter to her, when the door swung back open. It was nine o'clock…freedom and a shower beckoned, after a brief stop by her office.


	9. Freedom?

**Chapter Nine**

**Freedom?**

It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be…there were a few raised eyebrows when she and Woody brought the box with the Simmons case to the conference room at the morgue. Her co-workers knew better to make a scene concerning Woody. Garret pulled her aside and asked, "What the hell happened?"

Ruefully, she explained, omitting her breakdown and flashbacks about Digger. "I'm going to go over a few things with Drew and call it a day," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Fine by me…go home and get some real rest, but make sure Mr. G-man is fine with it, too." He nodded toward Haley.

Drew looked at her long and hard and raised one eyebrow. "Are you okay?" he asked her softly in her ear, while Woody was in the room.

"I'm fine," she nearly snapped. Woody might be a foul-tempered bastard at times, but he wasn't a monster.

"Just wanted to know that he didn't hurt you…again. Look…go home. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'll wade through the Simmons case and see if there's any corresponding evidence."

"I can stay if you need me, too."

Drew shook his head. "Nope. You're grumpy when you don't get enough sleep." He flashed her his most charming smile, having said the comment just loudly enough for Woody to hear.

Jordan was aware of what Drew had done and why he had done it…to get a rise out of Woody. She would be so glad when both of these alpha-males could go back to their own offices. Muttering under her breath, she grabbed her pocketbook and jacket and stalked to her car, mumbling a good-bye and "thanks" to Woody on the way out.

"She _thanked_ you?" Drew asked. "What on earth for?"

Woody grinned and focused back on the Simmons evidence. Let Drew think what he wanted. He would never tell the profiler any different. Meanwhile, Woody worried just how much rest Jordan would really get…or if dreams of Digger would continue to interrupt her sleep.

That thought was still on his mind three hours later when he finally left Drew alone to sift through the rest of Simmons evidence on his own. "Go home," Drew had finally demanded, exasperated by Woody's foul temper. "Get some sleep and come back tomorrow. Jordan may be grumpy when she doesn't get enough sleep. You're grouchy all the time for no reason."

Woody had left the morgue, sliding the knot down on his tie and unbuttoning the top button on his shirt. _God, what a day…what a last couple of days_, he thought, wincing at his own lack of sleep and Jordan's memories. He wondered once more just how Jordan was doing…if she was truly able to rest…if Digger was invading her dreams. Finally, he gave up the fight and pointed his car towards Pearle Street. He wouldn't be able to rest until he got some answers.

Ten minutes later, he was knocking on Jordan's front door. "Just a minute," she called, as she came to the door. "Woody? Is every thing all right? Do I need to come back to work? Why aren't you home resting? Your back…."

"Can I come in? I promise I won't stay long."

She pushed the door open a little wider and let him walk through. "Why are you here?" she continued to ask.

He guessed he was the last person she expected to see in her apartment again. Hands on his hips he turned to face her…with a weariness on his face that touched her heart. "Everything at the morgue is fine…you don't need to come back in today. I just need to…to…" _What are you going to say? Hold you again… this time maybe when you're not scared out of your wits?_

"To what?"

"See if you were okay. I mean last night, the flashbacks of Digger…you were pretty wigged out…I was worried."

She swallowed hard and tightened the belt on her robe. "I'm better than I was. I'm not going to lie to you…being locked in that room was scary for me…you have no idea…"

"I relive my shooting nearly every night in my dreams, Jordan."

"Then you do know how it is…"

Woody nodded. "Better than most."

She lowered her head a moment to digest that thought. Finally raising her eyes back to his, she spoke. "Thanks…then…for everything you did for me last night. I know it wasn't easy for you to be sitting on that floor last night – all night long – with me practically in your lap. I know I must have hurt your back…I wasn't thinking clearly…"

"You needed me. It was that simple." He laughed then. "I think that was the first time you _really_ needed me the entire time I've known you, Jordan Cavanaugh."

She smiled. "No, there was a few other times you've come in handy…bailing me out in LA…trading your Kinks tickets for information…."

"It was worth it." He sighed and looked at her. "We made a good team, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did." She bit her lip and looked away, blinking back tears and praying he didn't hear the break in her voice.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Too bad everything got in the way, you know? Too bad it's over. God only knows what else we could have done."

She just nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I guess I'd better be going. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay." He started to walk past her to go to the door.

"I'm…okay. Thanks again, Wood."

He stopped in front of her instead, reached out and gently wiped a tear off her cheek. "You don't seem okay."

"Then what do I seem like?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper, her eyes on his lips.

"Like…like you need this." He bent and covered her lips with his.

She hesitated for only a half a moment, thoughts whirling through her head…_he's got the wrong idea…he doesn't want you…he said he didn't. So why are you letting him kiss you?_

Then in a moment of perfect clarity she realized that _she_ needed it. Call it making one more memory of him to make a bad day better…call it residual lust that needed to be blown away…call it unrequited love….call it passion, desire, or a thousand other things, but she _needed_ him…more than water….more than her next breath…she needed him. Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and opened her mouth.

And he met her with equal passion…having needed her close to him again for so long he had lost count of the days. Gently he framed her face with his hands, then ran one hand through her long chestnut hair…finally wrapping the length of it around one hand at the base of her head and anchoring her to him…the other arm held her tightly around the waist…waiting for her to try to pull away.

Instead she only gasped for breath as his tongue caressed hers with increasing intimacy. He was only vaguely aware of it himself, feeling her move closer to him…straining to be as close as she could through the terrycloth of her robe. When he released her lips to find that sensitive spot beneath her ear, he heard her sharp intake of breath. When he allowed his tongue to liberally explore the same area, she melted against him.

_Oh, hell…_ he thought. What he had imagined would begin and end with a good-night kiss…a promise of things to come…was quickly getting out of hand…turning more passionate by the second. Soon he wouldn't be able to stop. Sooner than that, he wouldn't want to. A brief glance down at Jordan, taking in her glazed eyes and softly smudged lips, let him know she didn't want to stop, either. _Damn…I hope she doesn't regret this in the morning…_He began to back her towards her bedroom, expecting her to halt him somewhere along the way. Nothing doing. Her hands finished removing his jacket and tie, and began to unbutton his shirt.

No words were spoken as she finished removing his clothes and he reached for the tie belt of her robe, releasing it and then slidingthe garmentfrom her shoulders. She was bare beneath the robe…he figured she was. "Oh, Jesus," he breathed. "You're beautiful." She blushed and tentatively touched his bare chest with her hands. "Not getting shy on me, are you?" he asked…his voice sounding strained.

"No…" She lightly traced his scar…the one where the bullet had entered his body…An angry red line now…although it would eventually fade to pink as the years went by. Then she lowered her head and kissed it. "I wish I could take it away…all the hurt…what you went through…"

He pulled her face back up to his and kissed her again. "It's over…don't worry about it….especially now…" He twisted and toppled her on the bed.

For the life of him, what happened after that remained a blur. Whether it was exhaustion that caused the details to be fuzzy or if was just the fact that he had wanted her for so long and now had her and his mind couldn't comprehend it, he never would know. He remembered long, wet, kisses…slow and deliberate….kissing her neck and shoulders…lightly cupping her breasts with his hands and feeling her arch against him…replacing his hands with his lips. Feeling her arch against him again…more urgently. Sliding his hands up her thigh…making sure she was okay and ready…

There had been nothing but sighs and moans until then…when she suddenly gripped him. "Jordan," he managed to choke out.

"You don't like it?"

He shook his head. "Quite the opposite. I like it too much." He endured it for a moment or two before he made to slide into her.

She put her hand on his chest then. "Your back? Should I be on top?"

Woody shook his head and grimaced. "Not this time, sweetheart. Later." Then he began to move in her…slow at first, but building up speed at the passion mounted and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He could feel her tell-tale clinch a few minutes later and he quickly followed her. Then spent, he lay on top of her…hearing both of their breathing finally steady out…he had expected her to pull away…instead she wound both arms around him and pulled him closer.

"Don't leave me?" she whispered. "Please?"

He rolled over and took her with him, settling her on his chest. "I'm not going anywhere else for the rest of the day, baby."

She swallowed her tears, then.

That wasn't what she meant.


	10. The Price of Revenge

**Chapter Ten**

**The Price of Revenge**

Two more murdered senators and two months later, Jordan's world was still upside down. Having Drew back at the morgue had resurrected the specter of Digger…permanently it seemed for her. Nightmares and resulting sleepless nights plagued her now…just as badly as they had six years ago.

Drew had left Boston…after the murder of a Rhode Island senator and then one from New Hampshire, he had gone to those states, following the trail of evidence wherever it took him. He was still in touch, comparing notes with Jordan and Woody. No doubt, in time, the evidence would circle back to Boston and he would return.

So Jordan had her conference room back…her peace of mind…her own little corner in her own little world.

Except that Woody was nowhere in her universe.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. No note. No phone call. No nothing. And at work, he had acted like nothing had happened…making her feel used…cheaply treated. She had asked him why...

Sighing, he had replied, "It was _sex_, Jordan. _Sex._ That's all. Not a commitment. Not a 'happily ever after'. Just _sex_. After all, it obvious you've got something going with Drew…no sense in spoiling that. And after all our history of near-misses I don't think either of us really wants another half-hearted attempt at a relationship."

And after Drew left for Rhode Island, Woody went back to his office at the Boston PD without a backward glance, leaving her to once again pick up the pieces of her life after he had torn it apart.

She wondered if he knew just how much his words cut her to the quick. Perhaps maybe she deserved it, after all the years she had strung him along. Maybe it really was his time for payback.

However, the price of revenge was getting higher everyday. Determinedly, she got her pocketbook, jacket, and a thick file together and strode over to his office. He wouldn't take her e-mails or calls, nor respond to her faxes that she needed to talk to him. Santana had called her and told her he was in the office with the homicide detectives today. Woody would see her this afternoon…whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

He had woken up before she did that morning after he had taken her to bed. For a minute, he had been disoriented, not realizing where he was at…the opaque windows blocking the sunlight and playing with his already fuzzy mind. Then he felt her warm weight against his back…curled up beside him. He remembered then. He had taken Jordan Cavanaugh to bed and made love to her not just once, but at least two other times that he could recall.

What was he thinking?

That was just it…he hadn't been. He had gotten emotionally involved with Jordan one more time…all because her fears had played on his damned chivalrous heart…and that part of his body had somehow been attached to his manhood.

The last thing he needed in his life right now was to be sucked back into her emotional games. It was the last thing he wanted….despite the fact that he couldn't get her taste out of his mouth…or erase the touch of her lips…or forget how it felt to have her move beneath him.

Besides…she and Haley were seeing each other….so that night must have been the result of some lingering curiosity and a host of questions all beginning with "what" – what if they did finally sleep together…what would it be like…what would they do afterwards?

He had pushed himself out of her bed before she had time to wake up…and did the only thing he knew to do…

Pretend it didn't happen.

And if he tried really hard to imagine that it didn't, maybe she wouldn't believe it happened either.

It seemed to have worked…after one short "morning after" conversation, ignoring the obvious seemed to have been effective.

Until now. She was striding toward him with fire in her eyes and anger in every footstep. And he couldn't run and hide anywhere…she had already seen him. She walked up to his desk…sitting in the middle of the homicide department, surrounded by countless other homicide detectives. "I need to talk to you," she demanded…her voice cold and hard.

"Not now, Jordan. I'm up to my ears here…I'll call you later this afternoon."

"No. I need to talk to you now. In private."

_There's no way in hell I'm going to be alone with her again…_ he thought. "Not now. I told you I'm busy."

Jordan took a deep breath and gave him a daggered look sharp enough to pin him _through_ the wall. "This can't wait, Woody."

"Then tell me here…" He really believed she wouldn't discuss their personal lives in front of at least thirty of Boston's finest. She was far too private of a person…even if she was the most pissed he had ever seen her.

"Are you sure?"

He couldn't back down now…not after everyone had heard what he said. "Yeah…it's fine. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes she said. "I'm pregnant. You're the father. The due date is November 24. Here," she slammed the file folder on his desk in front of him, "is a list of expenses my insurance covers. There's another list of what I expect you to cover. Visitation and child support can be worked out after the baby is born. Have a nice day, Detective." She spun on her heel and left, the detectives parting like the Red Sea to let her through…then turning back to face him with amused looks on their faces.

"Don't you all have work to do?" barked Woody, his temper rising by leaps and bounds. The detectives scattered.

With shaking hands, Woody opened the file…pushing the money issues out of the way, he flipped to the medical forms. Her due date and approximate time of conception corresponded to their one night together…but what about Haley? _No…she wouldn't have approached me like this unless she was double-damned sure I am the father. Oh, hell….I'm the father…._He sat back and ran a shaking hand down his face. In seven months…if all went well and Mother Nature kept up her end of things, he'd be a daddy.

He wasn't ready for this.

* * *

Jordan kept her angry stride up all the way back to the morgue, where she entered her office, slammed the door, and locked it.

She was pregnant. She had known it for sure for at least two weeks...a month, even, maybe.The first sign was her breasts that got tender and swollen…then her period didn't come. She was too regular on her cycle not to notice the delay. She knew where all the signs were pointing…that and the fact that she and Woody had not slowed down to take any precautions during their one night together…it all added up to a positive at-home pregnancy test.

Which she promptly double-checked by redoing another test that the morgue used on female victims. It was positive, too. So with two plus signs hanging over her head, she made an appointment with her doctor….and procured the necessary medical forms that she would need to assure Woody the baby was his. A quick call to the insurance company and one fax later, and she knew exactly what would be covered…and what Detective Hoyt would be responsible for.

She sighed and walked over to the window in her office…looking out at the Boston skyline, but not really seeing it. A mother. She was going to be a mother.

Jordan Cavanaugh was having a baby. She was pregnant. She looked down at her still-flat tummy and rubbed a loving hand over it. She was having Woody's baby. A year…eighteen months ago….they both would have been thrilled. Time alters so much.

And his words to her had altered their relationship…permanently. .."Go…Now!" he had told her from his hospital bed. "I don't need a 'pity girlfriend'." And most recently, "It was _sex_, Jordan. _Sex._ That's all. Not a commitment. Not a 'happily ever after'. Just _sex_."

More specifically unprotected sex…that had resulted in her pregnancy. She had no idea how Woody would react to the fact he was going to be father. She hadn't hung around to find out. She really didn't want to know.

She just knew that in seven months, the doctor would place her daughter or son in her arms and her life would be changed forever. A smile played at the corner of her lips at the thought. Jordan had no idea how she would make it…but thousands of other women in Boston were successful single mothers…there was no reason she couldn't be one, either. And financially…even if Woody balked at support…she could make it….things might be a little tight at first…but there all sorts of possibilities out there.

She turned and took another file off her desk. This one was for Garret…he needed to know next…so she wouldn't be obligated to do x-rays any longer. She had no idea what his reaction would be.

However, Jordan was very much aware of how she felt…aside from a little morning sickness…she was ecstatic. She was going to have a baby…something that she always felt life had passed her by on…becoming a mother…was now going to be a reality in a few short months.

Woody may have meant to love her and leave her…with regrets and consequences….that may have been his revenge towards her.

And she had paid the high price of his revenge…his child. But she didn't feel a penny poorer…instead she felt incredibly rich.


	11. Anger and Ruin

**Chapter Eleven**

**Anger and Ruin**

Jordan didn't know what bothered her most after her confrontation with Woody, his flippant attitude when he saw her enter the homicide department or his lack of communication with her after she told him he was going to be a father.

He didn't call her or come by her office the rest of the day. She wasn't sure what she had expected from him – denial, anger, possible excitement over the prospect of becoming a father – but not silence. She had anticipated some kind of reaction immediately. When quitting time finally came, and she hadn't heard a word from him, she slung her gym bag over her shoulder and went to work out her frustration, coming home to her apartment building some hours later.

That was when she saw him, sitting outside on the stoop in the dusk. "I need to talk to you," he said, getting up from the step.

Jordan glanced at her watch. It was nearly nine. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Considering what all we need to discuss?"

"It wasn't two hours ago." Woody had been waiting for her since seven, calling her cell phone, grinding his teeth when she didn't answer But now wasn't the time to make her the subject of his temper. He held the door open for her, thinking it should be against some law somewhere for a woman like her to wear those lycra yoga pants in pubic. _She sure doesn't look pregnant_, he thought, noting her figure, _but then again, she's only two months along._ He waited for her to open her apartment door.

"Want a beer?" she asked, calling out over her shoulder as she went into her kitchen.

"Yeah. That would be nice. But you're not…" his voice trailed off. Was it his business if she drank now? He guessed it was. It was his child, too.

"No, I'm not," she replied in a sarcastic voice, coming over to hand him his beer where he was sitting on one end of her couch. She held up a bottle of water, then sat down on the other end of the couch, curling her feet up under her.

"So, how are you feeling?" Woody asked, breaking the silence.

"Other than some slight morning sickness, just fine."

"And the doctor thinks everything is going okay?"

"I just went for an initial pregnancy test. My first appointment is in three more weeks."

Woody nodded. He really had no clue when she needed to see the doctor. This was virgin territory for him. He thought he knew the answer to the next question he had to ask, but he needed to hear it from her. "And you're sure the baby's mine?"

Jordan looked at him with shock her eyes. "What kind of question is that?"

"A good one. I mean, from what I've seen between you and Haley, are you sure it's not his? Or someone else's?"

She shot off the couch in anger, walking across the room to the window, folding her arms defensively across her chest. Whatever Woody thought about Drew, their relationship was _not_ like that. If anything, Drew was beginning to play the protective older brother…and given their past with Digger, she could understand why. It was because of that very background that they did share a common bond. She had risked it all to help him catch a serial killer and Drew had saved her life. If that sort of activity doesn't cement a relationship, nothing would. "This is not Drew's baby," she spat out. "Didn't you read the report that I had in the file – about the conception date? And if I wasn't sure it was your baby, I wouldn't have mentioned it to you until after the child was born and I had DNA tests run. That, coupled with the fact that you're the only man I've had sex with in the past six months…well, you do the math." She bit her lip. The truth was, she hadn't been in a man's bed in a long time, more than a year…she had kept waiting for the time to be right for her and Woody…before he was shot… but time never seemed to be on their side. Then afterwards…anyway, she never thought it would be like this. A quick one night stand and him leaving her cold and alone afterwards. Tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn't fair. She loved him and he was treating her like some kind of….tramp.

"I think you need to go now. You've said quite enough. Forget I said anything. I thought, given how you are – or at least how you used to be – you may want to know about your child, and that you might, just by some off chance, be _happy_ that you're going to be a father. But I can see I was wrong.

"You've changed Woody. Too much. Your not the same man I used to know and lo—" She choked that word back. "I don't know what happened to you…if was the sniper, or me, or Cal, or what, but you're not yourself anymore. You've got a horrible temper, and you take it out on whoever is in your path. And I won't be that person you vent on. Neither will I let it by my child. I don't need your help to have this baby. I don't need your money for child support. I _do_ need you to leave," she finished, her eyes shining with anger.

Woody got up off the couch, barely containing his rage. It took all he had in him not to slam his beer bottle back down on the table as he got ready to leave. "Jordan, we need to talk about the baby…what you're – we're -- going to do when it gets here." His voice was quiet, but Jordan would see the muscles working in his jaw and lines around his mouth forming. He was very angry with her, but didn't know what to do with his frustration.

Well, she would help him. She walked over to her door and opened it. "Please leave."

Wordlessly, he walked over to her and stopped before exiting. "It's not over, Jordan."

She shook her head. Echoing the very words he had spoken to her in the hospital months before, she said, "Get out. Now."

* * *

Woody went back to his vehicle in a blur, his head still reeling from her dismissal. The fury in him raged as he got in his car to drive back towards his apartment. _How dare she?_ was the only thought running through his head.

But it was playing over and over in his mind like one of those elevator-muzak songs you couldn't exorcise from your brain. _Get out. Now. Get out. Now. Get out. Now…_

How dare she dismiss him from her apartment like some misbehaving twelve-year old when all he was concerned about was his child? _Our child_, he corrected himself.

He was far too angry to go home right now and coop himself up in his tiny one-bedroom home. He pointed his car towards the park where he and Jordan had gone running together the day that he had gotten shot by the sniper…only a short year ago…but it seemed like a lifetime. Sighing, he climbed out of his car and began to re-trace their steps, walking this time. _A year ago…Jordan was right. I was a different person then._ He put his hand over the scar the bullet made.

He was now so dissimilar to that happy-go-lucky-Wisconsin Boy Scout that he wouldn't even know that Woody anymore. The sniper had done more than shoot out his spleen….in many ways, the man had taken his heart, too.

He had never felt more helpless in his life…laying there in that dingy, old apartment, waiting for his back up to come. He knew the men arrived within seconds of hearing the gunfire, but it seemed like an eternity. His fingers had groped the front of his Kevlar and he pulled them away when they were covered with his own blood. He had tried to get up and stumble to the doorway, but found out the signals his brain was sending to his legs were being short circuited. He couldn't move. For less than five seconds he was at the complete mercy of another man that could have easily killed him. And then his father's history would have become his as well…murdered by a no-good punk, dying in the line of duty.

And he didn't like that feeling. For years he had been everyone's rock. The person they could lean on…depend on…bet their life on…place complete trust in….even Jordan Cavanaugh, as untrusting as she was.

Then it was all taken away from him in less than a second, and he had to be dependent, needy...

Vulnerable.

His self-confidence, career, ego, and manhood went in the toilet in a split second. Then someone flushed it. It took months of painful rehab and several surgeries to replace them as well as the use of his legs…and during that time Woody built up an abiding fury at the man who had done this to him.

Frustration and rage he had taken out on whatever or whomever was in his path…including the mother of his child.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, leaning against a fence that bordered one of the running trails. He had to get over this…whatever it was…a bad temper, a foul mood…post-traumatic stress syndrome….whatever.

However twisted and convoluted their past was, no matter how often he had told himself and her to move on, despite the fact he kept reminding himself that he either hated her or felt nothing at all for her…Jordan had given him another chance to start over…redeem himself – as a father.

It was just up to him if he would take advantage of the opportunity or continue to let his anger ruin his life and those he loved…including her.


	12. Pregnant Histories

**Chapter Twelve**

**Pregnant Histories**

Jordan had no idea having a baby was so complicated.

As a doctor, she understood the medical part. Dilation. Gestation. Placenta. All the terms and conditions of a nine-month pregnancy. As a woman, she understood what labor was going to be like.

But everything else was foreign territory. Mood swings and hormone changes. Hot flashes. The weight gain. Nursing. Maternity clothes. She gamely waded through one topic at a time with the literature that the nurse gave her after her first "official" visit to the obstetrician. She left his office with an armful of magazines and pamphlets and some paperwork she had to fill out.

Paperwork that she was going to have to have a little help on. The doctor had asked her, of course, if this was her first pregnancy. Jordan had said yes. Then Dr. Shiffield replied that he needed to know if her mother had any complications during her pregnancy and also some idea of how big the father of the baby had been at birth.

Jordan had no idea. She knew her mother had been pregnant at least twice…once with James and then with her. Max had never discussed what Jordan's birth had been like or if there had been any complications. And as far as Woody went, the topic of his birth weight had never come up in any conversation. She'd have to ask him – and she wasn't looking forward to talking to him again.

Jordan decided she'd take one obstacle at a time, first dealing with her own birth. There was only one other person in Boston who might remotely remember what her birth was like. Turning her beat up El Camino into the posh Beacon Hill section of Boston, she found her way to her grandmother's house. Holding her breath and gathering all the courage she could, she knocked on the door.

Mr. Timmons, her grandmother's butler, answered the door. "Is my grandmother home?" she asked. "I know I didn't call before I came, but this is really important. If she could see me for just one minute?" She was told to wait in the library.

Jordan had never been close to her grandmother after her mother's murder. Her grandmother had tried to take Jordan from Max, calling him an unfit father. Jordan had never forgiven her, even though her grandmother was one of the last ties she had to her mother.

But, in her quest to become the perfect daughter, Jordan had reached out to her grandmother one more time because it was something Jordan knew Max had desired…that she re-establish a relationship with Margaret, her mother's mother. Jordan had timidly tried to rekindle a friendship with her grandmother…and her grandmother had welcomed her with open arms.

Jordan now treasured the time she had with the older woman…and their relationship was a good one, although it was understood that some topics were off-limits, such as Emily's murder. That was fine with Jordan, as she was striving hard to put the past behind her, another goal in her quest for perfection.

But Jordan wasn't so naïve to believe that Margaret would be comfortable discussing either of her daughter's pregnancies – especially James'. And Jordan had a sinking feeling her grandmother would not be thrilled with her pregnancy. Jordan just hoped it wouldn't ravage their new-found relationship. She'd know soon enough….

"Jordan, what a pleasant surprise…" Margaret said, entering the library. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have something I need to ask you…."

* * *

Two hours later, Jordan had all her questions answered. _I was right_, she thought as she drove back home. _She wasn't thrilled, but she at least helped fill in the blanks._

The first thing Margaret had wanted to know was why it was so important to Jordan that she find out about her mother's pregnancies. Reluctantly, Jordan told her. Her grandmother had looked her up and down and immediately asked her how she was feeling. When Jordan had replied she was fine, Margaret was relieved, but her eyes held a kind of sadness. "You're a grown woman and a doctor and you are certainly more than capable of having a baby on your own. But it's going to be hard. If you need me, let me know. And make sure you call me when you go to the hospital. I'd like to be there. Do you plan on marrying the father anytime soon?"

"I don't think so …he's not too thrilled about it."

"He will be. It just takes men longer to adjust. Give him time."

Jordan couldn't tell her it probably wasn't the baby that Woody needed time to adjust to – but the fact that it was her carrying his child. However, her grandmother had told her that both of Emily's pregnancies were perfectly normal and both babies were of normal weight.

Jordan had left relieved. Now to talk to Woody. She'd call him on his cell phone first…she didn't feel up to another face-to-face encounter with the detective. His face…his whole body…had seethed anger when she threw him out of her apartment two weeks ago…and she hadn't heard from his since. She slowly dialed his number and let the phone ring…after the third one, his voice mail picked up. At the tone, she left a message. "Woody…it's Jordan. I need to talk to you…it's about the baby…nothing's wrong…I just need some information about you to fill out the father's history. Or I can fax the form to you and you can fill it out and fax it back to me."

A few minutes later, he had returned her call. He had asked that she fax the form to him…in a voice that was calm and border-line understanding. She shook her head. She had been looking for another blow up.

Twenty minutes later, he had walked the form back over to her office. Gently he tapped on her door. Thinking it was Garret or Nigel, Jordan responded with a soft "Come in," without even thinking about it, keeping her eyes on her computer screen, as she was validating tests.

"I have the form you wanted me to fill out."

She looked up, startled at his sudden presence. Slowly she stood from her chair. "Thanks," she responded, extending her hand to take the form.

"When did you go to the doctor?"

"Yesterday."

"And everything's okay?"

"Yeah. The baby has a strong heartbeat. My blood work was fine. They just needed as a complete medical history as I could give them."

Woody came the rest of the way in her office and shut the door, walking over to her desk and propping on it. "Did they do one of those ultra-sound thingies?"

"No…that won't be for another couple of months."

He nodded. She looked tired, but it was already evident to his eyes she was pregnant. While her stomach was still flat as ever, no one could deny her breasts were filling out…nicely. "I'd like to go with you when you have that done," he said, indicating the ultra-sound.

"I'll let you know when it's going to happen."

Woody glanced to the side, out of her window that looked into the hall. "Who else here knows your expecting?"

"I had to tell Garret, so I wouldn't be expected to do x-rays any longer, plus he's going to have to make some plans for when I'm out on maternity leave. I want to tell Bug, Nige, and Lily before much longer…at least sometime before I start showing."

Woody nodded. He had a feeling that he would be in the crosshairs of those three once Jordan told them she was going to be a mother….even if she didn't reveal who the father w as…they would put two and two together pretty quickly, especially with him keeping a close eye on Jordan during her pregnancy. "Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked suddenly, taking her off guard.

"What?"

"When they do the ultra sound…do you want the doctor to tell you if it's a boy or a girl?"

Jordan thought for a moment. She really hadn't considered that fact…she knew it could be done, but hadn't thought much about it. "No," she finally answered. "I want to be surprised."

He nodded again and got up from her desk. "That suits me fine, too." He ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get back to work…look, if you need me….for anything…call me. I've…I've…never been in this position…and I'm not sure what to do or when to do it…but I'd like to be there for you and the baby." He looked into her eyes….which were telling him nothing. Her entire expression was blank.

"Yeah. Sure. But right now, we're fine." She ran a hand over her tummy protectively.

"Good. Just eat right….and get enough rest. You are able to rest now?" he asked, remembering her dreams of Digger.

"Most of the time. Pregnant women get pretty tired and sleep comes fairly easily."

"Glad to hear it." He moved off her desk and made his way to the door. "I meant what I said, Jordan," he continued as he paused in the doorway. "Call me if you need me." And with that he made his way down to the elevators.

Jordan sat back down and blew out a sigh of relief. His anger had dissipated … he was congenial…nearly concerned. And he didn't ask the question she had been dreading most of all….What were they going to do about _them_ now that they were going to be parents?


	13. Appeals for Help

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Appealing for Help**

Woody left her office somewhat dazed and somewhat relieved. Relieved because Jordan was doing well…the baby and she were both healthy. Dazed because he still couldn't believe he was going to be a father…Jordan was pregnant…with his child.

Thoughts whirled through his head. Too pent up to go back to his desk and sit for hours, he ducked into the officers' locker room and changed into his workout clothes and set out for a run. Jogging past the familiar landscape, Woody could allow his mind to drift while his now fully functioning legs ran on auto-pilot.

_She's pregnant…with my baby. I know what my old man would say… I need to marry her. Give her and the child my last name. They're now my responsibility. Yeah — I know Jordan would like that…she'd hate being called 'my responsibility'…much less Mrs. Woodrow Hoyt._

However, the thought of Jordan as his wife didn't rankle him like he thought it would. When he had kicked her out of his hospital room, he sincerely wanted to be through with her. Begin his life again without her…without her hang ups….without her insecurities…the very things that made Jordan…Jordan. But somehow, he never could. Even when he had gone out of his way to avoid her for seven months, it never got any easier. He would date other women, go back home, and dream of her whiskey-colored eyes and small, ripe mouth. And her intellect. No other woman could match her.

He had no doubt that marriage to her would be a challenge…some days minute by minute. Not that living with him would be a piece of cake, either. Their life together might be many things, but boring wouldn't be one of them. But that one night in the vault-room and that night in her apartment had showed him two things. First, they could still get along…they still cared for each other…and second, the sexual fireworks they had always managed somehow to stifle between each other could still flare into searing flames.

Flames that they both could spend the better part of a life enjoying…along with their child…or children, if so blessed. They just needed to dig out the layers of hurt and resentment that had grown up around both of them…to somehow get back to that time before the sniper…before he tried to give her that friendship ring…back to when they both were willing to bend a little for a relationship with each other.

However, Woody wasn't kidding himself. He knew he was the one that needed most of the work. The lingering anger that he had because of his injuries and his assailant should be dealt with first, because anything could set it off. No matter how careful he was … no matter how much he tried to be in control, sometimes he would go off at the least little thing.

He never wanted the woman he loved or his child to be that target.

But he couldn't do it himself. Resolutely, he ran past the precinct again, down and alley and across a parking lot to a brownstone and knocked. When the door opened, he introduced himself. "Dr. Stiles, you don't know me, but I'm Woody Hoyt. I was the detective that was shot by the sniper last year…I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes of your time?"

* * *

"Wait…hang on Drew….you're going too fast….slow down," Jordan said into her cell phone.

"I said, we've had another murder of a French diplomat in DC, but the crime has the MO of the guy that's been killing the senators. Could you and Hoyt get down here ASAP? We've looked at all the other deaths together…I'd like your input on this one. I hope to God we're close to wrapping this one up."

"I know I can…I'll give Woody a call, but I have a feeling his supervisor won't have any trouble letting him come to DC now."

"Great. Let me know. I'll have tickets waiting for you two at the airport."

Jordan hung up and absent-mindedly rubbed expanding tummy. She was now at five months. She had revealed to Lily, Bug, and Nigel some weeks ago that she was pregnant. Their initial reaction was shock. "How did this happen to you?" Bug had asked, in all seriousness.

"What's the matter, Bug? You sleep through that chapter in biology?" Jordan had teased.

"No…no…not that…it's just that I thought you weren't seeing anyone right now."

"I'm not…it just kind of happened."

"Yeah, in a locked vault room of the cold case files," Nigel retorted, quickly putting two and two together.

"You're wrong," Jordan had replied.

But the criminalist wouldn't let up. Nigel had found Jordan alone in her office later that day. "It's Woody's baby," he blurted out, "isn't it?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because he's the only man I know of that could make you drop your knickers even though he's behaved like a total ass. You love him…you always have and you always will. It may not have happened in that vault-room, but that," he said pointing to the slight bulge in Jordan's abdomen, "is Woody's handiwork, is it not?"

Swallowing hard, Jordan nodded. "Are you disappointed in me?" she whispered. Nigel was her best friend…he had stood by her for so long, that the prospects of disappointing him did bother her…a lot.

"Disappointed? In you…for following your heart? No love. I just want to know that Woody's going to be a man about this."

"What? Marry me, give me a little white house with a picket fence, with 2.5 kids and a dog?"

Nigel shook his head. "No, love. Be there for you. Own up to the fact that this precious little bit," he rested his hand on Jordan's belly, "is his."

"He has, Nige. He knows it's his…he's not shirking his duty. He's been with me to have the sonogram done. He keeps a check on me. He's going to pay part of the hospital bill."

"But has he agreed to be the baby's father? Be around for the little tyke?"

Jordan lowered her head. "I know he'll be there for the baby. We just haven't discussed in what capacity."

And that was the truth. Woody had gone with Jordan for the sonogram…both of them captivated by the tiny image on the screen of their baby. At the end, the doctor had printed out several pictures from the computer of their child. Woody had asked for one, which he promptly put in his wallet. From that point on, he called Jordan several times a day to check on her…even took her out to eat on nights he knew she had to work late so that he could be assured that she was getting proper nutrition. Often, at the end of a long shift, she'd find him waiting on her after she had changed out of her scrubs. He would massage her feet for her before she had to shove them back into her sneakers and go home.

But they had never really discussed their future as parents.

Setting those thoughts aside, she punched one on speed dial. "Woody…Drew needs us in DC as soon as we can get there. There was a murder of a French diplomat that has the same MO as the murdered senators. He wants our input. Can you go? You can. Good. I'll call Drew back. He said he'd have the airline tickets waiting for us at the gate."

She sighed and hung up the phone, still rubbing her tummy. Talking to Woody was getting easier and easier, and something she dreaded less and less. She had noticed that his anger towards her was slowly going away…he seemed more like the old Woody she had known and loved.

And she was finding that dangerously appealing.


	14. One Room, Two Beds

**Chapter Fourteen**

**One Room, Two Beds...**

_**Sorry it's been a while… just been too busy.**_

**_By the way, if you haven't read Bourbon's A Matter of Time, do yourself a great favor, and read it now. It's a wonderful, sweet, romantic story._**

Drew looked at Jordan's protruding belly with dismay and interest. "When I asked you how you were doing the other morning on the phone, you left out a few minor details, Cavanaugh."

Jordan sighed and accepted the bottle of orange juice from the FBI agent, instead of the standard cup of coffee. She and Woody had arrived in DC about an hour earlier. Woody was now parking the car. Jordan had decided to go on up to Drew's office and fill him in on her "condition."

"It's a long story."

"Just tell me…did it begin in that vault-room you two spent the night in?"

"No…well, sort of. And how do you know this is Woody's?" she asked, lightly rubbing her hand over her stomach…a gesture she now was doing more often since she was clearly showing and the baby was moving.

"Who else's would it be?" Drew flashed her a grin, then caught sight of Woody striding up the hall. "Dinner. Let's do dinner and you can fill me in."

Jordan nodded and Woody's frame filled the doorway. "Agent Haley. Nice to be working with you again."

"Same here, Hoyt," Drew replied, eyeing the detective up and down. "Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let's get to work."

And they did….they worked until nearly five, going over evidence, linking clues, making a timeline. Finally Drew said, "Enough. Let's all break for the day and meet again tomorrow."

"Fair enough," Woody said. "I've still got to check Jordan and myself into the hotel. We came straight from the airport to your office."

"Go check in then and get some rest," Drew responded as they got up to leave. "Jordan, I'll pick you up about seven."

"I'll be ready," she replied over her shoulder and she and Woody headed out.

Woody walked beside her in silence for a moment…she was going to dinner with Haley. He had _assumed_ she would have dinner with him. He sighed inwardly. Guess that's what he got for assuming. And he couldn't get mad at her. He had no claim on her…he had said nothing and neither had she. Other than the fact that Jordan was carrying their child, nothing had really changed about their relationship.

Except the fact he couldn't forget how it felt to hold her…and feel her beneath him…and how soft her kisses were—even tinged with passion. Surely Drew wasn't going to try…not with her pregnant….Alarm spread through his body. How would he even know if she made it back to her hotel room safely? Or if Drew decided to spend the night with her? Alarm began to be backed up by jealousy.

"So you're having dinner with Drew?" he finally asked in a heavy voice as they drove the short distance to their hotel.

"Uh-huh. We have some catching up to do."

"Can't you do it while looking over evidence?"

She shook her head. "You forget. Drew and I go back a long way. We're good _friends_." She emphasized the last word.

"Yeah, that's what you said about us for years. And now look at us."

Jordan gave him a sharp look out of the corner of her eye. If she didn't know better, she'd think Woody didn't like her seeing Drew tonight. "You and I know that while we _both_ played that 'friend' card in our relationship, it never really was friendship."

"Then what was it?"

She shrugged and looked away. "I don't know. Lust…passion…attraction…curiosity… but, it was never just friendship." She was reluctant to use the L-word with Woody again. The last time she did, he shot her down.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever." He got their bags out of the trunk and they went to the counter to check in. Jordan excused herself to go to the lady's room while he took care of the paperwork.

"Two rooms …one under the name of Hoyt, the other under the name of Cavanaugh," Woody told the young woman at the computer.

The woman scanned her screen. "I'm sorry…I have one room for Hoyt with two beds."

"There must be some mistake. The FBI was supposed to book us two rooms."

"No…there's no mistake. I told Agent Haley that due to a large wedding party coming in, we could only give the FBI one room with two double beds and he said that would be fine."

"Is there a problem?" Jordan asked, coming up behind Woody and catching the tone of the conversation.

"Haley only booked us one room with two double beds."

Jordan reached over the counter and took the key cards from the woman. "Thanks," she said. "And you'll have to over look him." she continued. "He gets a little grouchy when he's tired." She headed for the elevators.

"You mean to tell me you're fine with one bedroom for the two of us?" Woody asked incredulously, following along behind her. "You…Miss Wait-until-we've-known-each-other-five-years-before-I-get-a-second-kiss Cavanaugh?"

Jordan sighed as they got on the elevator and she punched the button for the tenth floor. "Hell, Woody…we're having a baby together. What's one or two nights in a hotel room going to do to us? Get us pregnant again? I mean….we're past the point of that. We've seen each other's appendectomy scars, if you know what I mean."

Woody grimaced. She was right. But at least he would know when she got back from dinner with Haley…and that she would come in alone.

* * *

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Drew said. "The day after you two were accidentally locked in that vault-storage room, he shows up at your apartment to make sure you're okay?"

Jordan had tried giving Haley the _Readers' Digest_ condensed version of what had happened. It wasn't working. "Yeah…I had sort of a melt-down in the room."

"Panicked because you were alone with Woody?"

She shook her head. "No….ever since Digger….small spaces and I don't get along so well," she said in a soft voice, repressing the shiver that always went along with any of her memories of that case.

"Oh, Jordan. I'm sorry. I haven't forgotten…but just didn't think…So that's why he came went to your apartment…to make sure you had recovered?"

"Yeah. And I really hadn't…and then one thing led to another and…"

"You're pregnant."

"Sure looks that way," she replied with wry smile.

"So…how are you?"

"Physically, fine."

"What about emotionally?"

"Good, too. I've always wanted a family…so this may be my only chance."

"I don't think so," Drew said. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are now…especially since you've let go of your past…and matured? Any single man out there would snap you up in a heartbeat if they thought they had a chance against Hoyt."

Jordan stared at the agent in amazement. "Drew…"

"I mean it. If Hoyt doesn't come through and be a man about this, he is truly an ass."

"I know he's going to be a father to our child…I'm not worried."

"But what about you?"

Jordan looked down at her plate. "I really don't think I fit into his picture except as the mother of his child."

Drew let out an angry huff. "If that's true, then he needs to stop begin so damned possessive of you. That way you can find someone to be happy with."

Still looking down at her plate, Jordan cleared her throat. "That's not important right now. This is." She rubbed her belly.

"I agree. The baby is the most important thing both of you should concentrate on right now. That and how you're going to convince Woody that you love him."

Jordan looked up from her plate, shock registering across her face. Sometimes she forgot just how good her friend was at his job as a profiler. "How do you know?"

"It's obvious. Remember, I had you pegged the first day I met Hoyt…when I told you your boyfriend wasn't too happy to see me."

"And I said he wasn't my boyfriend."

"And your eyes told a completely different story." Drew pushed back his dinner plate and leaned forward. "So what are you going to do?"

Jordan swallowed hard. "I don't know."

Drew smiled. "Remember that night I came over to your apartment…brought the Chinese and the wine?"

Jordan nodded.

"I got you just a little drunk on purpose to get the truth out of you. You not only told me you loved Woody, you also told me about his getting shot. It wasn't hard to put two and two together and realize why that was the reason the man was so angry. But the next morning, when I accidentally let it 'slip'," Drew grinned at her then, "that I put you to bed the preceding night, his face showed fifty degrees of jealousy. I began to plan then how I could get you two together again."

Jordan drew a sharp breath. "I don't want to make Woody jealous." She involuntarily winced when remembering the depth of Woody's anger the last time the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head in their relationship.

"I agree. But I'd like to see you two together again…not just for the baby, but for yours and his happiness. I have a few ideas…if you don't mind me trying some profiler tricks on Woody….I'd just like to see you as happy as Nancy and I are," he finished with a smile.

"Nancy?"

Drew sat back in his chair, still smiling. "My fiancé."

"Drew….you're engaged? When?"

"About three months ago."

"I'm so happy for you."

His smile turned into almost a sheepish, boy-like grin. "I'm happy for me, too. I never thought I could feel this way again … not after my first wife and everything that happened there. But I do. She's a wonderful woman and I'm one lucky son-of-a-gun that she loves me, too."

Jordan smiled through her tears at her friend and fervently hoped that whatever Drew had up his sleeve would at least help convince Woody that she still felt the same…that she had never stopped loving him.

Then the idle thought ran through her head and out her mouth before she stop herself. "Drew…the one hotel room for Woody and me … was that one of your ideas?"


	15. Pushing His Buttons

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Punching His Buttons**

"Did you have a good time?" Woody softly asked from his bed. Jordan had returned from her dinner with Drew and had quietly let herself back in their room.

"Yeah. It was good to catch up."

"I guess Drew wanted to know about the baby?"

She nodded, not sure if he could see her in the dark or not. She was rummaging through her suitcase for her pajamas and toothbrush.

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth."

"The whole story?"

"Most of it."

"Jordan…"

"Look, Woody. It's late. Let's take this up in the morning…I'm tired. All I want to do is go to bed." She went into the bathroom and closed the door. A few minutes later she emerged in girl boxers and a tank top, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. She climbed into her bed and settled down. Woody was breathing evenly and from that she assumed he was asleep. She rolled over on her side and grabbed the other pillow, holding it tightly against her chest.

She hadn't lied. Her body was tired…from the flight, the long day at the FBI offices, her dinner with Drew, and then the emotional rollercoaster of being with Woody all day. But her mind was going ninety miles a minute. What was Drew up to? How would Woody react?

Would Woody care at all?

The fluttering in her belly brought her back to the present... and what was really important. She gently rubbed where the baby had been kicking, causing the little one to quiet down. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, knowing that she needed her rest now, and would even more in the days ahead.

Woody heard her snuggle down in the bed and roll over, putting her back to him. He had been bothered…would tormented be too strong of a word…while she was gone with Haley…wondering what they were doing…what Haley was saying to her. Praying that the FBI agent and Jordan were truly just friends.

Praying that at the end of their dinner Jordan would return to their hotel room and not go home with Haley. When she had walked through that door a few minutes ago, he had been relieved…she was safe, back with him…and angry.

Not at Jordan, but at himself. His sessions with Dr. Stiles had shown him that the fury he was directing towards those people he loved was a result of all the anger he had locked inside over his assailant. Since he couldn't lash out at the sniper, he would lash out at whoever was in his path.

Now he was upset with himself that he hadn't already talked to Jordan about their future together as parents…of their time ahead together as a couple. Tonight, as he watched the clock and waited for her to hopefully return, he faced the cold, hard truth that he had no claim on her _other_ than being the mother of their child. He hadn't discussed any of the relationship dynamics and issues with her. They had talked about the baby…her health now that she was pregnant, but had never broached the issue of _them_.

He needed to do so before it was too late. She was exhausted and sound asleep right now. But tomorrow was a brand-new day.

* * *

The next morning Haley sent Jordan to the FBI's medical examiner's office to look at the body, while he and Woody went through some more evidence in the agent's office. "Stay away from any x-ray machinery," Woody warned her. She simply nodded in response as she headed out the door.

"Keeping a close eye on her now, huh?" Drew asked, in a voice he knew Woody would take as baiting.

"I don't want anything to happen to her or the baby."

"I think Jordan's quiet capable of taking care of herself and anyone else that comes along."

Woody waited a minute before responding, until he knew he could answer without raising his voice. The last thing he wanted to happen was a scene at the FBI offices. "They're _my_ responsibility."

Drew shrugged. "The baby, certainly. According to Jordan, you're the father. But that's all. Jordan's taking care of herself."

"She's the mother of our baby."

"And that's all. Why? Is there something you want to do about that, Hoyt?"

Woody slowed down long enough to think for a minute. What Haley said was true. At this point, that's all Jordan was … the mother of his child and he said nothing about anything else to her. Indeed, the one time she had told him that she loved him, he had resoundingly rejected her. "Why is it any of your business?"

Drew looked him steadily in the eyes. "Jordan is my friend. She laid everything she had on the line to help me catch a serial killer….putting herself in serious harm's way. I don't forget about things like that. Add to that the fact that she is a very beautiful woman, incredibly desirable, even pregnant, and she's unattached. It all makes for a very explosive mix, despite the fact she's carrying your child, don't you think?"

Gritting his teeth, and feeling his temper rise, Woody managed to spit out, "Stay away from her, Haley. Stay away from Jordan."

"Why? So she can be as alone and miserable as you are? That's kind of harsh, isn't it?"

"Just stay the hell away." Wood turned and walked out of the agent's office, barely keeping himself from slamming the door behind him.

Drew chuckled to himself as he picked up the phone to call Jordan. He had read Hoyt right…the detective cared for Jordan deeply…and his buttons were far too easy to push as far as she was concerned.

* * *

Woody found himself wandering down the halls until he found the ME's office. It was nearly lunch time. Maybe he and Jordan could have some lunch and then he would get her to commit to him for dinner. Then, if she felt like it…or hell, if she didn't feel like it, they could talk. He finally caught her eye. She held up five fingers…she'd be out in five minutes. He leaned against the wall and waited. She soon emerged.

"Feel like lunch?" he asked.

"You're asking a pregnant woman if she's hungry?" She grinned at him.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Starving. Is Drew joining us?" she asked, pretending ignorance of what had gone on between Drew and Woody a few minutes earlier. Drew had called Jordan immediately after it happened.

"No. It's just us for lunch. He's still working."

Jordan nodded. "Sure. Just let me get changed."


	16. Straight Back to You

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Straight Back to You**

Lunch went well. They discussed the case, Woody intentionally keeping the conversation light, or at least on neutral ground. He was afraid if he steered it toward anything more serious, Jordan would shy away from dinner tonight with him and instead turn to Haley.

As he walked her back to the ME's office, he paused outside the door to the offices and gently brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Thanks for having lunch with me," he said. "And I was wondering if you'd have dinner with me tonight? That is unless you have other plans?" he asked, flashing her his most charming grin…dimples fully showing.

Jordan felt her heart melt just a little. Woody hadn't looked at her like that in a long time…not since before he had gotten shot by the sniper. Exactly what tricks had Drew been playing on Woody to get him to change so quickly? She knew his temper had dissipated, but even with that and her pregnancy, he had been nothing but politely distant towards her. "Um…sure. Just let me have time to go back to the hotel and change?"

"No problem." And he sauntered back towards Drew's office, content in the knowledge that tonight she'd be eating with him.

"You're grinning like the Cheshire cat," Drew commented as Woody walked through the door.

"Good lunch," was all Woody replied as the two alpha-males sat down to wade through the rest of the case. Woody sincerely hoped that by the end of the week, he and Jordan would be on a plane back to Boston…away from this infernal FBI agent … back to everything that was familiar…

And with a little luck, back with each other.

* * *

For once the gods of cell phones and endless interruptions were working with him tonight. Not once did either of their phones ring while they were eating. Woody just let her relax through out the meal. "This seems like old times," he said at one time during dinner.

Jordan nodded, but kept her thoughts to herself. It had been well over a year…maybe even two years, since they had sat alone like this with nothing and no one bothering them. It was nice…a sweet reminder of how things used to be and bittersweet at the same time when she thought about how things might have been. She blinked back the involuntary tears that filled her eyes suddenly. And Woody seemed more like his old self than ever… corny jokes…dimpled grins…gently stroking her hand at all the right times. He continued to let her just unwind from her day, believing that maybe after the meal would be the best time to approach her about _them_. His opportunity came back at their hotel room.

Jordan was getting ready for bed. She had changed into her pajamas and washed her face. Then she picked up her hairbrush to run it through her messy hair…and never heard him come up behind her.

"Let me," he whispered, taking the brush out of her hand.

A protest was on her lips, but it died there as he gently worked the brush through her long, chestnut hair … a stroke with the brush and then one with his fingers. Jordan closed her eyes at the sensation it was causing. When he was through, he tossed the brush back in her suitcase and then wrapped his arms around her from behind, one arm supporting the weight of her extended abdomen, the other across her collarbone. It was like he was holding her and their baby at the same time. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and just stood there with her like that for a long moment.

. He felt her sigh and lean back against him. "Tired?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered truthfully. She felt him smile against her neck.

"Come to bed."

"I think I will." She pulled away and went to get in her bed, but he still held her hand and tugged her back.

"No…in mine."

"Woody…I don't think…"

"Don't. Think that is. Please come to bed with me. I'd just like to hold you….and our child…all night. I haven't had the opportunity to do that before now." He grinned at her. "I'll give you a back rub," he offered.

Ah…he knew how to tempt a pregnant woman. A backrub sounded wonderful after a long evening and a longer day at the FBI offices. She nodded and let him tuck her in his bed. True to his word, he rolled her over on her side and rubbed her back until she was completely relaxed and nearly boneless. Then he spooned her tightly against him and once again wrapped his arms around her protruding belly. He was rewarded with a sharp kick to the inside of his arm. His hands gently spread out over her tummy, holding it like a basketball he was getting ready to pass off to another player. He was rewarded with another kick and a flurry of small movements. "Damn…" he whispered in her ear. "Does he do that all the time?"

"_She_ does it a lot. It will slow down as she gets bigger and there's not a lot of room left to move around with in there."

"Meantime, it's like gym time in there for _him,_ huh?"

"I guess so. It feels like _they're_ having a good time."

Woody was silent for a half a beat. "_They're?_"

Jordan chuckled and rolled over onto her back. "I'm kidding. It's either a him or a her. Not a them."

"Don't scare me like that."

She smiled up at him and caught her breath. He was very nearly lying on top of her. And from the look in his eyes, the precariousness of their positions had caught him unawares, too.

Not that he wasn't going to use it to his advantage. He reached up with one hand and gently smoothed her hair back off her forehead. "They're…him…her…What about _us_, Jordan?"

"Us?"

"Yes. Us. Not as parents…us as in you and me."

She glanced away for a minute. "I didn't think there was an 'us' anymore," she answered in a small voice.

"But didn't that night in your apartment tell you anything?"

"You said it was just sex, Woody. Sex. Not a commitment, not a happily ever after. Just sex."

"I've said a lot of things I didn't mean in the past year."

She blinked up at him. "So just what_ did_ that night in my apartment mean to you?"

He paused for a moment before he answered her. "That night… and the night before in the vault room – especially the vault room -- showed me we still cared for each other. Deeply. No matter how much either of us had tried to run from it, we still cared for one another. And it scared both of us…me probably more than you. I was still dealing with the issues over my shooting…my anger with the sniper…and taking it out on everyone, including you." He paused and gently rubbed her tummy. "It took this to help me gain some perspective."

"So what have learned?"

"That I still care for you…and I can't live my life in the past anymore than you can. I have to let go of the anger and look toward the future. A future that now holds my son or daughter, and hopefully you, too."

"Why do you want me?"

Trust Jordan's innate ability to go straight for the jugular to rear itself.

"Because I love you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh. I have since the minute I set eyes on you five years ago at the bank heist. When I saw you in that red dress in your father's bar, it went from love to lust…and it's wavered between the two ever since. But when I held you that night in the vault room…and I could feel your fear…all I wanted to do was be with you and protect you from anything that might ever hurt you again. I'm not sure if that's the poets' definition of true love, but that's mine. I don't want anything to hurt you…I want to feel our children grow inside you…and I want to be the one that grows old beside you…. I want to make up for the hurt I've caused you. I don't know how…but I want to try."

Jordan could feel the tears find their way into her eyes again. "You never moved on, did you?"

Woody shook his head. "How could I when every road I moved on to lead me straight back to you?"


	17. I Love You

**Chapter Seventeen**

**I Love You**

Jordan caught her breath at his confession. Tentatively, she reached out and gently touched his face. "Do you mean that?" she asked softly, stroking his cheek.

Woody nodded, not trusting his voice. Tears were in his eyes, too, and Jordan saw them. She wiped the moisture away with her thumb, and then pulled him to her, and hugged him close. "I've missed you, Woody Hoyt. So much." Her own voice broke at her confession. Woody pulled away and wiped her tears this time.

"Look at us…if we're not some kind of fools. All this time wasted…within touching distance of each other for months…and we were both still trying to convince ourselves that it was over," he whispered.

Jordan smiled up at him. "I know. I had tried to move on…I thought that was what you wanted."

Woody pulled away her hand that was still resting on his cheek and placed a kiss in the center of it. "I thought I wanted it, too…until I realized that going anywhere without you wouldn't be any kind of life at all."

"I love you, Woody. I haven't stopped…and I have for so long, I can't even remember when I started."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really. I knew I liked you…thought you were a nice guy the night you stopped at Dad's bar to check on me that night we solved the case surrounding the nurse and her mercy killings…when you left me alone with that sick woman. No one had ever stopped to check on me after a case to make sure I was okay."

"So I was just a nice guy for a long time?"

"Until we kissed in the desert…"

"Then what happened?"

"That scared me. You started churning up emotions in me I had thought were long dead…and I wanted them to be…loving someone meant risking losing them and that hurt…but I couldn't help myself."

"So when do you think you did fall in love with me?"

"The Montgomery case…the first time I knew I could lose you forever."

"Damn…it's taken you long enough to tell me…"

She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry…but you know how I am…or at least how I used to be."

He put a finger on her lips. "You're right. I do know you…and if it's taken you this long to tell me you love me…then you're mind is made up. And mine is, too." He pulled her to him again. "I love you, Jordan."

"I love you, too."

He gently kissed her…feeling the time they had wasted melt away. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, he knew it had. Suddenly, they were just Jordan and Woody again…the way it used to be…so long ago. He grinned down at her. "So…here we are…government-paid hotel room…cell phones turned off….Boston hundreds of miles away…Dr. Cavanaugh, what would you like to do?"

Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hmmm….I don't know. But I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I can think of a few things," he said smiling against her lips and reaching for his pillow to put under her back and hips for support. She kissed him then…making his world spin…and reaching for his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. The rest of their clothes quickly followed. And when the time was right, he softly kissed her and one arm went under the pillows beneath her to help support her as he gently slid inside her.

Later, with her head resting on his chest, she slept…feeling peaceful for the first time in months as she realized with sudden acute awareness, that this was the way their lives were supposed to be…together…all three of them and whoever else they may be blessed with…for as long as they were allowed.

* * *

"Have you got your tie on?" Jordan asked, coming out of the bathroom, fully dressed and looking more beautiful than ever to Woody.

"Yes…I do. I even have Hunter dressed," Woody replied, holding his six month-old son in his arms as Hunter greedily devoured a bottle.

"You're very good…."

"Well…we'll see about that later on tonight, Mrs. Hoyt." Woody threw her a wolfish grin as she made sure the diaper bag was packed.

"Promises, promises," she returned, laughter in her voice and her eyes. Woody looked at her with contentment. The last months had been very good to them. As soon as they had returned to Boston, they had gone before a judge and gotten married, promising Jordan's grandmother that as soon as the baby was born, they would follow through with a religious ceremony. But for Woody, it was more important that Jordan and he get married as soon as possible…and a judge was certainly a lot faster than dealing with a priest at the moment.

Hunter was born three days early…November 21…right on the cusp of Thanksgiving, making the young married couple's first set of holidays more special than usual. Jordan had delivered him naturally, jokingly saying that while she took no drugs to bring the nine pound, seven ounce baby into the world, Woody took all they would give him.

Motherhood had agreed with Jordan…she had already made peace with her past well before Hunter was a glint in Woody's eyes…but she now exuded a calmness and contentment that was palpable. She was still the same old Jordan in many ways…bawdy sense of humor…thoroughly inquisitive and searching with her work…but was also very happy with the new side of her life…wife and mother.

"Are you ready?' she asked Woody, interrupting his thoughts.

"Who? Us? We were born ready, weren't we, buddy?" Woody said to Hunter. They were back in DC for Drew's wedding. When they had left DC over a year ago, Woody had sincerely hoped they would not see the city or the FBI agent again. No such luck. Drew had sent them a wedding invitation and Jordan had insisted on going. "He'll be there for ours," she had said.

Woody had known Jordan long enough to know when to admit defeat. He bought the airline tickets and decided the best tact was to grin and bear it. He took his wife by the arm and juggled Hunter with the other as they rode the elevator downstairs to the rental car. "I wonder if Nancy knows what she's getting into?" Woody asked as he buckled Hunter into his car seat, thinking about Drew and his antics to bring the detective and Jordan together again.

"I'm sure she can handle him just fine…just like I do you," Jordan said, grinning at him mischievously.

"And that you do…handle me fine. I love you, Jordan."

"I love you, too."


End file.
